


A Minor Intervention

by PseudoLeigha



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (everyone who's read any of my stuff knows that right?), Arguably Overpowered OCs, Don't forget to introduce the undead cat. This is VERY IMPORTANT., I have shite to do today and can't think of anything else so that's all you get, Professor Tom Riddle, Season Seven Sucked, Sorry Not Sorry, Tiny Lily, Tom Riddle is Lily Evans's father, Tom Riddle is Not Voldemort, fucked up found family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 171,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27977025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudoLeigha/pseuds/PseudoLeigha
Summary: Buffy and company are in over their heads with the First and its mind-games. When Xander is used to open the Seal, their universe is invaded by something even stranger and more terrifying than Turok-Han: Bella Black and Mira Zabini. (They were on holiday and got lost. That's Bella's story and she's sticking to it.)Bella quickly picks a fight with the First because it's an insult to the Dark to call that thing evil. This is good for morale, but does rather derail canon.Tom eventually shows up to take the girls home, and/or be used as a tool of the gods and the Powers That Be to deal with that persistent little Devourer problem of theirs. With the daughter he didn't know he had in tow, because "Katie" said so.And, as it turns out, when you put Tom Riddle, Willow Rosenberg, and Dawn Summers in a room together, you have the makings of an epic shift in magic and the nature of the universe itself.(Mira is NEVER going on holiday with Bella again. Ever.)POD: Albus Dumbledore hires Tom Riddle as the Defense Professor in 1961. Between being a full time professor and Head of Slytherin and his hobby of killing people in horrible ways, he's far too busy to become a Dark Lord. Consequences ensue.
Comments: 184
Kudos: 79





	1. A/N

This is a crossover between an AU of the Coming of Age in the House of Black universe — NOT the Plan universe or the Avalon universe or Children of Hecate or any of the various AUs mentioned in my other works, a different one (POD: Dumbledore let Tom have the DADA position in 1961) — and the last few episodes of the seventh season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

I'm just going to put it out there, I _hated_ that season for at least a dozen reasons, among them the fact that the First doesn't really seem *evil* enough to be the final Big Bad; the potential resources that are just ignored in favour of *girl power for the win*; and the fact that Angel comes in and saves Buffy's ass at a key moment, totally undermining the female empowerment thing the rest of the season bashes us over the head with.

I started this crossover about six months ago as a response to the last season of Buffy being terrible, which is a large part of the reason I threw such ridiculously overpowered crossover characters (who at this point in recursive AU nonsense are basically OCs) at it, and they have such a ridiculously large impact on the plot and the Buffyverse characters. I've re-interpreted a lot of the Buffy canon worldbuilding, with very little reference to anything that happens in the comics, because I haven't read them. (And I'm even less familiar with Angel.) If you're coming to this from the Buffy fandom, there's a very good chance you'll find it annoyingly unbalanced. I wasn't planning on publishing it, but it's now over 125k words and kind of has a plot (though not a conclusion, yet), and is somewhere between a third and half of the way complete, so I figured, why not. Have a ridiculous crossover.


	2. Opening a Portal to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter BtVS season 7 ep 14 (First Date)
> 
> Xander gets used as a blood sacrifice to open a portal, letting something far more terrifying than a Turok Han out into their world.
> 
> Bella and Mira have been lost for an indefinite but significant period of non-time Bella calls going on holiday in Valhalla (and Mira calls actual Hell). They manage to escape into...what might still be hell, but at least it's a different hell. Mira will take it. After all, there are probably showers and sex in this universe, which makes it infinitely better than the hell they just escaped from.

This was just fucking typical. Hot girl agrees to a date with Xander Harris; hot girl turns out to be a _demon_ — and not only that, but a demon who thinks the First is going to win, and has decided to help it out with that — Xander ends up suspended from the ceiling in the basement of the high school, dripping blood onto an ancient, mystical seal that's getting all glowy and opening-up-y even as Buffy and Spike and...the principal? (whatever, not really important at the moment) try to fight off said demonic date, and there was a _hand, reaching out of it_ , covered in _blood_ , and, "Guys! Maybe hurry?"

"Little busy here, boy."

 _Fuck you, Spike_.

"We'll get you down, we just need to—"

The demon bitch, whose name almost definitely wasn't actually Lissa, backhanded Buffy from behind, knocking her to the ground before she finished speaking, though Spike took her down in a flying tackle half a second later, falling on top of Buffy in a tangle of limbs and snarling, gnashing teeth.

"Robin!" Buffy yelled from somewhere under Spike (and didn't _that_ sound wrong, he'd like to forget he'd even thought it). "Get to Xander!"

"On it! I'm on it!" he called back, searching frantically for some way to cut him loose.

"Over there!" Xander shouted at him, trying to sort of indicate the direction demon girl's knife had gotten kicked with his head. "Your left! Your _other_ left! My left!"

It was too late, he could tell it was, the panels were folding up, receding, he could _see_ the infernal light of the hell dimension opening up beneath him, something was already crawling out of the shadows, another one of those terrible, unstoppable Neanderthal vamps, probably, they were all going to die. This was it. This was how it ended. Not with a bang, or an apocalypse, just Xander getting sacrificed and—

"Oh, come _on_ Zee, _climb_! It might not stay open very long!"

"I _am_ climbing— _Aah!_ It's got me! It's not dead! Bella! _Help!_ "

The hand disappeared, only to be replaced a moment later by the head of a rather bedraggled, overwhelmed-looking girl, about the same age as the potential Slayers shacked up at H.Q.

"Well, we might still be in hell," she observed, "but at least it's a _different_ hell. I'll take it."

"Fucking fantastic. You're blocking the door."

The first girl — dark haired and dark eyed, with olive skin and a British accent — popped herself up onto the edge of the goddamned portal, then scrambled to her feet, backing away into the nearest corner brandishing a stick at Robin as he turned to face her, knife in hand. "Bella! You should maybe get up here!"

"Hold the fucking carpet, Zee, I'm shorter than you, and you kicked one of the Fiends off the pile!"

"I'm being menaced by a very large man with a _very_ large knife!"

"That's got to be some kind of record," the other girl, Bella, called back, laughter in her voice, her blood-covered hands reaching for the lip of the portal again. She pulled herself up with a hop, as though pushing herself out of a pool.

"Not a euphemism, Bella! _Eep_!"

"Still a record," Bella noted, rolling to her feet. "Pretty sure it took longer than that for you to get attacked by that first Fiend. Hey, dickhead! I'm more fun!"

Robin wheeled around, jabbing quickly at the girl, obviously intending to take her by surprise. The girl, equally obviously, had been expecting it. She ducked — couldn't have been more than five feet tall, shorter than _Buffy_ , even — pulling a knife of her own out of _nowhere_ and circling around the man.

"So, what manner of beastie are _you_?" she asked conversationally. She darted in as though she was going to try to stab him in the heart, under the ribs, but actually kicked him in the nads. Xander winced as Robin staggered back. The girl followed him, closing the distance between them with two quick steps and kicking his feet out from under him. She knelt on his chest, her knife at his throat. "You're not actually _human_ , are you? 'Cause I have to say, I expected that to be far more difficult."

"Of course I'm— Goddamned teenage demons. I _hate_ this school!"

"I think he's telling the truth, Bella," the other girl said, creeping forward.

"I thought you said this was another hell dimension!"

"Well, there's two N.H.B.s and a girl fighting over there, and this bloke suspended here, and—"

"Don't even think about it," the second girl said firmly, apparently in response to some minute movement on Robin's part. "I can definitely kill you before you can throw me off."

"Get off the poor man, Bella."

"I thought you said he was menacing you."

"Well, in his defence, I _had_ just crawled out of a hell portal. I might have been anything."

"Make up your mind, Zee! Do you want me to kill him or not?"

"I'm leaning toward...no?" The second girl sat back, slightly, glaring at her companion, which meant she wasn't looking at Buffy, who had managed to fight herself free from the tangle of Spike and Miss _I want to be on the winning side_ and armed herself with a shovel. She _whapped_ the girl with the flat of it, probably thinking to take her hostage, see what she could tell them about the Neanderthal vamps. The girl went flying. Not surprising, probably, given that she was tiny, and Buffy was _Buffy_. Zee, the first girl, let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh, _bugger_."

The little one rolled to her feet, shaking her head to clear it. "Oh, goodie! This one's definitely not human, Zee."

"Well, don't kill her, either. I'm pretty sure we're on their side."

"Doesn't look like it from where I'm standing," Buffy quipped, eyeing the girl who had begun to circle around toward her friend, armed with another shovel. She spun it to get a feel for its weight and balance before taking a two-handed grip on it, as though it was some kind of halberd or glaive, and falling into a defensive position. Probably smart, given that Buffy was _Buffy_ , and now had Principal Robin guarding her back.

"Unless I'm _very_ much mistaken, you, the human, and the male N.H.B. over there were trying to prevent the female N.H.B. using the young man here to open the portal, yes? And we just spent _months_ fighting our way through that place — it's full of these horrible, _disgusting_ monster things, they tried to _eat me_ , and there's just no _end_ to them, it's _awful_ — so as far as I'm concerned, _she_ —" Zee pointed at Xander's date, still wrestling with Spike. "—is on the side of whatever those things are — they wanted to get out, believe me, Bella had to kill about fifty of them at the bloody gate — and since neither we nor you are on _their_ side, I'm certain we can come to some sort of more diplomatic arrangement than beating each other to death with gardening tools, yes?"

"Yes? Yes! I vote yes!" Xander decided. "And can one of you cut me down? I'm still bleeding, here!"

"You might want to close the door while you're at it," Zee noted. "Bella eliminated the pack nearest the gateway and those things are awfully territorial, so there aren't any others nearby, but it's only a matter of time until another pack moves in on the area."

"They travel in _packs_?"

"They're not _packs_ , they're _legions_. It's an army. I'm pretty sure they just broke up into different territories to guard something, or look for something. Probably the doorway, actually, that would make sense. They talk about a signal sometimes. They're _waiting_ for something."

"They can _talk_?" Robin said, not moving to help Xander _at all_ , which, yes, okay, it was probably kind of a dick move to abandon your date to fight and/or negotiate with a couple of escaped hell-denizens all by her lonesome, but Xander was _pretty sure_ Buffy could handle it!

"I think the more important point there is there's an _army_ of them? Like, a real army?" Buffy's tone fell, he thought, somewhere between horror and skepticism. If it was true, it was horrible, but... It did seem kind of ridiculous, that these two girls — demons, obviously, but still not nearly as strong or dangerous as the fucking Turok-Han, judging by the trouble they'd had getting out of the pit (even if the little one _had_ shrugged off that shovel-whapping pretty fucking fast) — vastly outnumbered, had somehow managed to survive any number of those things for even a few _minutes_.

"Bella gives them too much credit. They haven't _nearly_ enough discipline to be considered an _army_ , and there's no command structure to speak of. Maybe they could be used as some sort of shock troops. _Maybe_. I'm not entirely certain they're sapient. As far as I'm concerned, they're little more than feral animals."

"And you expect me to believe you survived _months_ in there. And that this kid killed fifty of the damned things."

"I've probably killed a thousand of them by now, actually — it's not hard once you realise they _burn_. I mean, yeah, it's harder if you're trying to keep the bodies intact, but once I managed to catch one and dissect it, identify the major organs and their locations, it got _much_ easier. Also, not a kid, blondie."

"Guys! Save the bleeding sacrifice and close the gate now, macho bullshit later!"

"Robin, cut him down while I keep an eye on our... _guests_."

Oh, thank God.

Once he actually had a knife and _wasn't trying to kill anyone_ , it only took a minute for the principal to cut Xander down. He edged away from the hole leaning on the taller man, his head spinning slightly. "So...do any of you know how to close that thing? Because I was kind of hoping it would lock itself back up without its constant supply of tasty human blood."

"And that doesn't seem to be the case," Principal Obvious mused, pressing something against the wound in Xander's stomach. "Hold this here."

"Spike, do you know how to close this thing?" Buffy asked.

"Kind of _busy_ here, Slayer!"

"Oh, for the love of..." she muttered, stalking back toward the demon and the vampire, but before she got there, Zee shrieked, pointing at the portal. There was another hand reaching out of it, this one grey and taloned and much more Turok-Han-looking than the last.

"Buff, we might need you over here," Xander said, keeping his voice as level as possible. He did a pretty good job, if he did say so himself. "Can I have a shovel?"

Robin tossed one to him, crouching beside the hole with his knife, ready to stab the first uber-vamp that poked its head out. Xander attempted to join him, but as soon as he pushed himself away from the wall, his weapon became a crutch. How much blood had he _lost_?

"So you said it was the female that opened the portal?" Bella asked Zee.

She nodded. "What are you— _Bella_!"

"Hey, Spike," she called, approaching the vampire, who...mostly seemed to have Demon Girl contained. "You hold her arms."

"What the bloody hell are you—"

The second demon girl knelt by probably-not-really-Lissa's head, giving her a demented grin. "Tell me how to close the gateway, and I'll kill you _quickly_."

"Oh, that's rich—" Spike scoffed.

"Wasn't talking to _you_."

"Bella, I swear by all the gods and powers, if I have to deal with one more of those _fucking_ monsters, when we _just_ got away from them..."

"I'm _working_ on it!" She dragged a finger gently along the line of the demon's jaw, ichor seeping from the slice that appeared in its wake. "You _really_ don't want me to kill you _slowly_."

There was a sick _snapping_ sound, Xander wasn't certain he wanted to know which bone that was, or how she had broken it. The demon shrieked.

Another _snap_. "I don't know! I don't know! I wasn't— I didn't need to know how to _close_ it!"

"Well you're fucking useless, then, aren't you?" The girl scowled, poking the demon between the eyes with one finger. Her head _exploded_ , covering both Bella and Spike in disgusting slime.

"What _are_ you?" Spike asked, scraping it off his face.

"Shadow-kin. You?"

"Vampire." He eyed her rather warily, edging away from her.

"Vampires look _weird_ in this dimension."

"Xander!" He whirled back around to see that the first of the Turok-Han had managed to pull itself free, another already following. Right. More stabbing evil killing machines with shovels, less watching Spike be terrified of (something that appeared to be) a thirteen-year-old girl.

("How did you do that?")

"Stay behind me," he ordered the other one, taking a single, stumbling step toward Buffy and Robin, Warrior Principal, trying to keep his balance without leaning on the wall or the shovel.

("Magic, obviously. Do you know how to close the portal?")

("Do I look like a witch, shadow girl?")

"Don't be daft," the girl snapped, slipping under his arm to help him. "Just wait. If it gets past your friends, _then_ you can try your luck fending it off."

("Well, maybe a warlock, but—")

"Bella, I'm _never_ going on holiday with you again!" Zee shouted, drawing the smaller girl back toward the rest of them.

"Aren't you having fun? I'm having fun. Hey, who took my shovel?"

"Just throw a fucking fireball at them, Bella!"

"Why don't you do it?"

"My wand doesn't work in this universe either!"

"You really should learn to do soulfire, then, shouldn't you." Xander couldn't help but steal a glance at Bella. She rolled her eyes, but snapped her fingers, a bluish flame appearing in her palm. It grew to a crackling sphere of electric blue and violet energy, about the size of a baseball, which she threw at the first Turok-Han to pull itself all the way out of the pit. Brilliant blue flames swept over it, fading to the normal orange and yellows of real fire as the magic faded away. Xander was pretty sure it never saw Buffy's shovel coming.

Head severed from body, the thing burst into dust.

"Okay, they don't do that when you behead them in their own dimension. Neat. Also, weird. Also, now we need another fireball, why didn't you just push it back in?" She didn't wait for an answer, conjuring another handful of demonic flames and chucking it at the second monster, whose advance had been stalled by his buddy blocking the portal. It fell back, shrieks echoing from the pit. "That should keep them occupied for a few minutes, at least. Anyone have any ideas?"

"Throw more blood at the thing and will it to close?" Zee suggested, edging forward.

"Can't hurt to try it." She pulled her knife again — seriously, where was she keeping that thing? — flipped it to catch the tip and offer the hilt to her...friend? There was, Xander decided, kind of a weird vibe between them. A weird _dynamic_ , maybe, was a better word. _Kind of_ like Willow and Tara, if Willow was a tiny, psychotic, knife-wielding demon who did whatever Tara told her to, but also kind of a Buffy–Dawn thing there...if Dawn was the one actually calling the shots.

"Can't you do it?"

"Restoring order isn't really my thing. Also, enforcing my will on things, not my thing. You know this. So, no. I know you don't like the sight of your own blood, but I was also under the impression that you never wanted to have to see another one of those horrible monsters again, ever, so." She waggled the knife in front of Zee, almost temptingly.

"I'll do it," Buffy snapped, snatching the blade from her hand and drawing a sharp slice across her own left wrist in the same motion. "So, what, I just...bleed on it? Into it?" she asked, holding her arm out over the portal.

"The three elements of magic are power, control, and intent," Zee said. It sounded to Xander like she was quoting something. "The power is in your blood, your life, the symbolic sacrifice. Control is your focus, what you intend to happen. Visualizing the effect of a spell sometimes helps. _Intent_ is...reaching out and telling the Universe, _this is how it's going to be, because I will it_."

"Right. Power, control, intent, I can do that, no big," Buffy muttered, closing her eyes. "Close the goddamned gate to Hell, stop the First, avert yet another apocalypse, just another Tuesday..." A drop of blood fell into the pit, then another, and just when Xander thought it wasn't going to work, a third. And then the metal panels of the seal snapped into place, suddenly enough that all of them jumped.

And then let out a collective sigh of relief, with the exception of the little demon girl. She frowned at the thing for a moment, _then_ sighed.

Alright, Xander would bite. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. Just, I kind of liked that dimension. It was...simple. Endless hordes of enemies trying to kill us at every turn, didn't need to sleep or eat or anything, all we had to do to survive was just stop anything from killing us. It was, I dunno... _easy_. Kind of a nice break, you know?"

"It was _terrible_. We didn't see a single other person the entire time we were there, there was no food or water or _showers_ or _beds_ , and while you're lovely, Bella darling, I _do_ enjoy a bit of variety, and there were no _men_."

"Should have packed a dildo."

"I didn't pack _anything_ because you said we were just _going for a walk_! I thought we'd only be a couple of hours, not hiding in a cave for bloody _months_! You realise we've probably missed the start of school by now? Tom's going to be wondering what happened to us. And we're _still_ not in our own universe! And we're in America! _Why_ are we in _America_?! _I want to go home_!"

"Why? I'm sure there's food and water and showers and sex in this universe. There are humans, and things that look like humans, at least. They probably even have libraries. I _missed_ libraries. I mean, yes, I did once say that just being able to fight everyone forever sounded pretty fucking great, but Valhalla gets kind of boring after a while. Who would have thought? And I told Tom we were going on holiday. He told me to send him a message when we inevitably got lost and/or stranded and needed to be rescued. Preferably on a holiday or weekend, so he wouldn't have to let a substitute take his lessons. So, who are all you people, and where are we? Also, what year is it, just for good measure?"

She looked up at them expectantly, turning from one to the next, eyes wide behind the gore still spattered across her face and hair — a wild rat's nest of black curls, knotted haphazardly out of her face, darker than Zee's, as were her eyes. Her skin was paler, though, almost as bloodless as Spike. Made sense, probably. She had said she was some sort of shadow-creature, right? Probably didn't get much sun.

Spike snorted. "It's _Anno Domini_ Two-Thousand Three, and you're in Sunnydale, otherwise known as the Hellmouth. I'm Spike, this is Buffy. She's the Slayer. The boy goes by _Xander_ , and the one looking at me like he wants nothing better than to stake me for existing is apparently _not_ the mild-mannered secondary-school headmaster he appears."

"Yeah, Headmasters can be tricky that way. You should meet ours — devious old fucker. Did your face change?"

"They do that," Buffy said. Apparently she'd decided to take the lead, since she _was_ their leader, not Spike, and he'd been doing most of the talking so far. "Vampires. You know, when they go all rage-vamp-y."

"Uh- _huh_. And you're...the _Slayer_? What do you slay, specifically?"

"Vampires. Or she's _supposed_ to," Principal Robin said, his glare shifting from Spike to Buffy.

"I can't just kill him, Robin. He has a soul. He's not _like_ other vampires!"

The kid snorted. " _Right_. I bet he tells that to _all_ the girls."

"Hey, now! It's true! And who are you lot? Where did you come from?"

The first girl straightened her shoulders, very obviously pulling herself together, trying to make a good _second_ impression, even if their first had been kind of terrible. "I'm Mirabella Zabini. This is Bellatrix Black. We're from Britain, by way of the hell dimension you just saw. _Someone_ thought it was a good idea to wander off in the Crossroads looking for an adventure. I don't think we were in there for thirty-five years — it certainly didn't feel _that_ long — but it's only Sixty-Six in our universe."

"We're from a dimension called Tsadi," the younger girl specified. "Which is definitely not in the same plane as this one, because there's not _nearly_ enough magic here. Can you even do anything other than ritual magic?" She cocked her head to one side, as though listening to a voice no one else could hear. "Yeah, that's fucking weird, but okay."

"Bella, love? Now there are other people around, it would really be better if you didn't talk aloud when responding to the voice in your head. She's not really as insane as she seems," she added, somewhat apologetically.

"Pretty sure I'm exactly as insane as I seem. How else are you supposed to judge the degree of anyone's insanity if not by their observable behavior?"

Spike snorted. Buffy glared at him. "What? She's got a point, hasn't she?"

"She reminds me of Drusilla."

"Nah, more like Darla, really, just a bit cracked. And apparently also a witch."

"Bella, I want these people to offer us food and water and a bath and a place to sleep at least for tonight, so kindly shut _up_ and let me work! Look, I realise it's a bit of an imposition, but if we could prevail upon you for hospitality, just long enough to get our bearings...? I _promise_ I won't let her kill anyone, just, _please_ , I'm _dying_ to get clean."

"Oh, go on, Buffy. Not like you haven't got a dozen teenage girls sleeping on your floors already, what's a couple more?"

"How do we know they're not demons sent by the First to kill us all in our sleep?" Xander pointed out.

Bella grinned. "Zee promised I wouldn't? Also, yes, we are technically demons, being from another universe and all, but I've never heard of the First. Is that some sort of organization or something?"

Buffy groaned. "No, it's the First Evil, it's— Look, you can come with us and stay the night, but only because I think you've got a lot of explaining to do — and if you _do_ try to hurt _anyone_ , I _will_ kill you. Understood?"

The little one gave her a mocking grin and opened her mouth to say something, but Zee kicked her in the knee. "Understood. Let's get the fuck out of here."

"Robin? You should come too, just to make sure we're all on the same—"

"No," the principal said, staring at Spike again with undisguised hatred. "I... I think I'm just going to call it a night. I have... I have some things I need to think about."

Spike gave him an _unbearably_ smug smirk. "Suit yourself, mate." Then he flung an arm around the younger girl's shoulders, leading her toward the exit. "So, where _did_ you learn to fight, luv?"

"So, he's hitting on little kids now? Does anyone else think that's creepy? Because I think that's creepy."

"Definitely creepy," Buffy agreed, taking over the task of keeping him upright, or trying to, at least. Zee didn't actually move away from his other side, the three of them just making their way toward the stairs together. "He'd better not just be trying to make me jealous again."

"Maybe someone should tell her he's about a hundred and fifty years older than her. Unless she's a _lot_ older than she looks?"

"She's sixteen. We both are. Or...were, before however long we spent in _there_. And she can take care of herself. Better than most, you may have noticed. Though I'm fairly certain the only thing he wants from her is information. He is the member of your little team who liaises with the... _rougher_ elements, is he not? And she's clearly the more vulnerable of the two of us when it comes to subterfuge. Not that it matters at this point. It's not like we're trying to hide anything from you — we really _are_ lost, we haven't any negative intentions toward you — so it hardly matters what he manages to charm out of her, I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"What are you?" Buffy asked immediately.

"I'm human. Bella's technically something called shadow-kin due to an experiment with metamorphosis, one of the more esoteric disciplines of magic in our world, having some unintended consequences. But she was _born_ human, and she's still human in any way _you_ would care about."

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

The girl peeked around Xander's chest to raise an eyebrow at Buffy, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. "She can die like a human."

"So you're witches?" Xander asked, breaking the awkward silence that followed that statement. "Or Wiccans?" Some witches, he'd found, really didn't like the term. It had _negative connotations_.

"Witches. Or, well, we are in our universe. Magic works differently here, as Bella mentioned. Specifically, I can't get it to work at all." She pouted. "Which is just par for the course these last months, it's been wretched. Even worse than dealing with the Fiends. _She_ can, obviously, though... I suppose magic here largely works by invoking gods or powers or making ritual sacrifices and the like?"

Buffy nodded. "Willow and Anya could probably tell you more, or Giles, but I think that describes what we've seen them do pretty well."

"Yes, well, that sort of magic is rather...restricted, in our world. Ah... _legally_. _Magically_ it's probably the most powerful approach to spellcasting. Bella and her mentor are pretty much the only people I know who practise it. She started as a child and has a very strong bond with her patron power. Obviously they can still speak to each other, I gather the gods exist outside of what we think of as universes or timelines or what have you — magical theory is _hardly_ my area of expertise — and that likely has something to do with the fact that she can still do things, at least at short ranges, while I can't. Though she is also just the more powerful of the two of us, even when it comes to straightforward wizardry."

"Right. And where _did_ she learn to fight?"

"Where _didn't_ she learn to fight? Her family starts teaching their children when they're three or four, but her father was always an abusive sack of shite. Her childhood was hell. _Worse_ than hell, in a lot of ways. She spent most of it fighting him to protect her little sisters, magically and physically. Her parents didn't want to deal with her, so they got her a tutor when she was seven. Riddle — Tom, that is — he made her _dangerous_. Taught her all sorts of dark arts and magical theory, helped her train... She could probably take most top-tier duelists in an all-out fight by now, and she hasn't fully come into her power, yet."

"You said... _dark arts_." Xander could hear the tension in Buffy's voice, though she was clearly trying to hide it.

"I did, yes. We aren't nice people, Buffy."

"You seem alright," Xander offered, trying to nudge her into giving them more information. Seemed like the thing to do.

She smirked at him. "Appearances can be deceiving, darling. I'm arguably more dangerous than she is, if in a rather different way. But it doesn't matter. We don't have any purpose here, other than getting _home_. Bella couldn't care less, of course, but I have _plans_ there — I've been laying groundwork for _years_ , making connections and so on. I assure you, we have no reason to hurt you, or even inconvenience you...though Bella may try to get under your skin a bit. She can't really help it, antagonising everyone she meets."

Xander hadn't really followed her all the way through that bit. He'd gotten side-tracked by _I'm arguably more dangerous_. "No offense, kid, but you were screaming and cowering in a corner down there. She's clearly the better fighter of the two of you, and you admitted she can do magic that you can't... What do you do, that makes you more dangerous?"

A brilliant grin and tinkling laugh met his question. "I do _people_. Bella doesn't. At all. What you see is what you get with her. Chaos and destruction, mostly. She's powerful, but she has no direction to speak of. No ambition. I'm also _far_ better than she is at any magic guided by emotion, and anything requiring _patience_ , like potions or alchemy. But mostly? I understand people."

"And _that_ makes you more dangerous?" Buffy scoffed.

"Certainly more dangerous than you think. I've seen enough of you and your team already to drive half a dozen wedges between you. Not _you_ two, you've been friends for _years_ , yes? And you've been through rather a lot together. It's in the way you look at each other, communicating without words, and your body language, supporting each other as though you've done it a hundred times before. But the vampire, neither of you trust him, really, and you, Buffy... How long were you shagging him? Gotta say, that's going to create friction if you start going with Mister Tall, Dark, and Handsome instead, because he _definitely_ hasn't moved on. And, Robin, was it? The hunky headmaster? He _obviously_ has some sort of prejudice against vampires. And he didn't know Spike was one until halfway through that little tussle in the basement. I'm sure you didn't catch the look on his face when he realised it, you were a bit preoccupied at the moment, but it was _so_ obvious. So he's not going to trust any of you, either. He'll be asking himself why you kept that little tid-bit from him, what else you might be hiding. He'll work with you, of course, you do obviously have some common cause or you wouldn't have been here together, tonight. But he won't trust you, because what kind of vampire slayer shags vampires? Well, I mean, obviously a kinky one with daddy issues, but I doubt he's familiar enough with the psychology of teenage girls to catch that one." She grinned. "I might not be able to kill you, but if I wanted to, I could make you my bitch, darling."

"Uh- _huh_. And you're telling us this _why_?" Because Xander really didn't see the point in admitting that she was a manipulative bitch.

"Honesty is disarming. And the only thing I want from you is a bath." Buffy reached across Xander's chest and jabbed her in the shoulder with a finger. "Ow?"

"Just making sure you're not actually the First." Kind of silly, Xander thought — she _was_ half holding him up, but.

"Oh, so it's intangible? And it's been playing mind games with you... What is it? Some kind of incarnation of the Dark, I assume."

"We...don't really know what it is, or how to fight it. But it's planning on... It said it was done with the balance between good and evil, and it was going for a big finish. Which is apocalypse talk if I've ever heard it."

"Xander! Quit telling her things!"

"What? She's not the First, and the First _knows_ all that anyway!"

"Yes, but she could be some other kind of manipulative...demon...thing, with some nefarious motives of some sort."

The girl sniggered. "Well, I _am_ a manipulative demonic entity, I _did_ just tell you as much. Whether getting cleaned up is particularly _nefarious_ , well... _I_ wouldn't say so, but."

"Wait, you said you were human!"

"I am. I'm also from another plane of reality, which makes me a demon in this world. Do you just use it as a catch-all for Non-Human Beings?"

Before Xander or Buffy could really answer that question, the little girl, Bella — Xander _really_ had trouble believing she was actually sixteen, she looked _much_ younger than Dawn — stepped out of a shadow just in front of them. "Oh, good, you're not dead."

"Why would we be dead?"

"Well, Spike and I just got jumped by half a dozen eyeless blokes with knives and really shite dueling robes, so just thought I'd check."

Buffy caught his eyes over the demon girls' heads.

("Wouldn't really do to let Zee get killed now that things are starting to get interesting again.")

"Bringers," she muttered, over the kids' chatter.

("You'd miss me if I died.")

Xander nodded, "Go."

("Well _yes_ , I'd have to talk to people _myself_ , and that _never_ goes well. Why do you think I dragged you along in the first place?")

"Hey, kid! Bella! Where are they?"

"Er..." She looked around, slightly confused. "I _think_ two blocks down, if you turn left at the next corner? Spike said we were almost there, wherever we were going. You guys walk _really_ slow."

Buffy took off in a dead sprint before the words _really slow_ had gotten all the way out of her mouth, leaving Xander alone with their demonic visitors.

"Well some of us get _tired_ when we go who knows how long without sleeping and then have a very harrowing evening of escaping from _hell_ to deal with!"

Or being bled out as a human sacrifice to open a portal to said hell dimension.

"It's not like we needed to sleep there, and I fail to see how doing something _different_ for the first time in _forever_ isn't terribly exciting. How can you _possibly_ be tired? Also, where did blondie go?"

"Uh, to help Spike, maybe?" Xander suggested sarcastically.

"With _what_? There were only six of them, and they're obviously just humans. Admittedly kind of possessed and oddly coordinated for not having eyes, but I'm pretty sure he's not going to let the one we captured get away. The rest are dead, if that wasn't clear. I thought I was clear, with the got jumped, coming to check on you thing? I mean, obviously the attack on us was over, right?"

"She's just overly concerned because she's emotionally dependent on the vampire. She's under a lot of stress, being _the_ Slayer, tasked with dealing with some apocalyptic First Evil — I imagine if she lost him _now_ she might just _shatter_."

Xander squirmed, but said nothing, mostly because he suspected Zee was _right_ , but also because, yes, that was terrifying. He could see it now, her being the more dangerous one. How did she even _know_ that? Did the _First_ know it? Buffy was the only thing holding their little 'army' of Potentials together, really. Was it going to find some way to kill Spike, or force him to betray them, get her vulnerable and take her out? It _had_ already been playing mind games with him...

"Normal people are weird."

"That's what makes them fun." Oh, yeah, because that wasn't suspicious _at all_. "How much further to Buffy's house, Xander?"

They'd reached the corner. Xander nodded to the left. "Four blocks this way. You _were_ close."

Zee frowned. "Yes, they were. And so were these...Bringers? Bringers of _what_? No, never mind — are your wards up to defending against these things? Because two blocks is a bit close for comfort, isn't it?"

"Wards?"

"Magical defenses used to repel intruders with various degrees of lethality," Bella explained. "I'm not sure the traditional sort would work here, but you should still be able to do a blood-based protection ritual type thing, or maybe soul magic...?"

"I...don't think we have that sort of magic here. I mean, we can ask Will, but..." If there were some kind of magical protections you could put on a house, Xander was pretty sure Giles would have done it the first time Buffy's got trashed by some demon or other.

"Xander!"

"Anya?"


	3. A potential Potential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cavalry (Anya, Willow, Kennedy, and Giles) head out to see what the hell is taking so long. Before they get to the school, they're distracted by Spike and a teenage girl who looks like she's been living in a post-apocalyptic hellscape turning a Bringer ambush into a slaughter. 
> 
> Buffy, Xander, and a teenage girl who looks like she's been living in a post-apocalyptic hellscape *in a movie* (or possibly a teenage succubus) eventually join them, everyone heads back to Buffy's house.

Okay, as annoying as Anya was being about Xander going on a date with some demon girl who might eat his head — and more importantly, _wasn't her_ — Willow was starting to get genuinely worried as well. Two forty-five was _late_ , even for Buffy, especially on a school night, and with Xander sending that distress call... (She'd decided that yes, that was definitely the _my date is a demon_ code.)

"Maybe we _should_ go out and look for them."

"Yes! Yes! I've been saying it for _hours_ now! Come on, let's go!"

Giles sighed. "Yes, I suppose maybe we should."

"I'm up for it." Of course she was, Kennedy was always up for _anything_ , it was one of the things Willow really liked about her.

"Well then what are we all waiting for? He was at that school, right?" Anya wrenched the door open without waiting for an answer, leaving the rest of them to scramble for shoes and weapons and a few things that might help, if they needed a little magic to get them out of a sticky situation.

Well, Kennedy was ready to go, but Willow and Giles weren't, and of course Giles had to convince Dawn to stay behind and man the phones in case Xander or Buffy called — and keep an eye on Andrew, which was probably the more important job, with the First trying to get into his head once already tonight (sometimes Giles forgot that they all had cell phones now). Kennedy waited, bouncing slightly on her toes all agitated-like, now they'd decided to actually _do_ something.

They caught up to the ex-demon a block and a half away, when she stopped abruptly to hide behind a tree rather than continue past a fight between Spike, half a dozen of those eyeless Bringer bastards, and...

"Is that a new Potential?"

It was definitely a teenage girl, ducking and spinning away from the Bringers' knives, taking the occasional swipe at them with a couple weapons of her own, making them look like clumsy oafs instead of terrifying killers, and laughing as they stumbled into each other trying to stab her. But as far as Willow knew, she wasn't a Potential. "I don't know — Giles, was there supposed to be another one?"

"The coven hasn't—"

"No," Anya said firmly.

"Anya? How do you know?"

"Well, just _look_ at her!"

Willow _was_ looking, and aside from generally looking like she'd been though hell — covered in mud and blood, her clothes so torn and stained Willow couldn't tell what they were supposed to look like originally, hair all matted in the light of the nearest street-lamp — and wearing a bright grin — hardly appropriate for mortal combat — she looked like any of the other Potentials. Maybe a bit _young_ , but...

"I am looking," Kennedy said, "and I'm seeing a teenage girl _someone_ taught to fight. Looks like a Potential to me. Actually, looks _better_ than the other Potentials. By like, a _lot_." Even Willow could tell that, and fighting was _hardly_ her area of expertise.

"So, a potential Potential?" God, that was so stupid. Kennedy smiled anyway. "But why would she be with _Spike_?"

Anya frowned. "I thought Slayers had to be human."

"She's not human?" Giles said, before Willow could. Because she _looked_ human. Very, _very_ dirty, but definitely human.

"You can't _tell_? I can feel her magic from here, so..."

"Okay, now that you mention it..." Willow trailed off, staying to the shadows at the side of the road, but edging closer, trying to put her finger on exactly what it was about the magic around the girl that felt _off_ , other than the fact that it was strong enough to feel from half a block away.

Meanwhile, Spike broke the neck of a second assailant — one was already on the ground — and turned to see how the potential Potential was doing. "Stop faffing about, Shadow Girl!" he snapped, though he sounded more amused than annoyed or worried.

"But it's been _ages_ since I've been in a knife fight," she complained, blocking a blow from one Bringer and ducking under another, slashing a line up his side as he stumbled past her into the other two. "Fiends would rather rip your arm off and beat you to death with it than use an actual weapon, you know."

"Turok-Han _are_ weapons, and we don't play with our food here. Just kill them. Or, wait, maybe we should capture one?"

" _Fine_. Are vampires more fun when they don't have souls?" she asked, disappearing into thin air and appearing behind the closest Bringer, stabbing it in the heart from behind. Right. Okay, then. _Definitely_ not human. "I only ask because you're being _lame_."

"Oh, bug off," he grumbled, grabbing one of the Bringers by a shoulder — they were all focused on the girl, as though _she_ was the greater threat, or by far the more important target. Though on second thought, Willow supposed that made sense, if they'd thought she was a Potential, too. And the First was still planning on using Spike for something, so they probably didn't want to hurt him _too_ badly. He spun it around and punched it in the face, throwing it against a nearby car — fortunately one old enough not to have an alarm on it, because there was _no_ way they could possibly explain this, if its owner was to wake up and come out to see who had broken their driver's side window.

By the time he had pummeled his would-be prisoner into submission, the girl — had he called her _Shadow Girl_? — had executed the other two in much the same way she had the first. How was she _doing_ that? Yes, demons could teleport, or some of them at least, and _she_ had been able to, when she'd lost herself in the magics, but... Well, she didn't _know_ if she could have done something like that, teleporting just a few feet at a time, she hadn't thought to _try_. She was pretty sure the girl wasn't teleporting, though — there was no shimmer as she disappeared or reappeared, and Willow was pretty sure that she was somehow doing it _silently_. She wasn't _entirely_ sure, over the sounds of the fight, but...

"So these guys, they're somehow aligned with your First Evil thing? Are they some kind of cult?"

"Yeah, they do its bidding, act as its hands since the bloody bitch can't _touch_ anything otherwise. Mostly try to kill little girls."

"Oh, so they're possessed! That makes sense. I mean, the First Evil — stupid name, by the way, and almost certainly inaccurate — well, maybe? I guess it would depend on how you defined _evil_ , but whatever — if it's guiding their actions directly, they wouldn't really need eyes. Not really important, but—" She broke off as the rescue crew approached them. "Oh, look. We have company. _Again_. Allies or enemies?"

"Allies," Giles said, perhaps slightly too quickly, but Spike nodded in confirmation. The...girl vanished her weapons — had one of those knives been made of _bone_? — and gave them a quick once-over before turning back to Spike, raising an eyebrow rather expectantly.

"Shadow Girl, this is Rupert Giles, former Watcher; Willow, our witch; Anya, former vengeance demon; and Potential Slayer Number Three — I can't be arsed to learn their names, honestly, there are about a dozen of them."

"It's Kennedy, jackass."

"It's either Number Three, or Willow's Girlfriend," Spike informed her. Willow felt herself blush. "You lot, this is a mad, half-human shadow demon who escaped from the Turok-Han hell dimension tonight. She goes by Bella. There's another one around here somewhere — teenage succubus or something, goes by Zee."

 _Bella_ giggled. "Zee's entirely human, though she'd be flattered, I'm sure. Speaking of which, I should probably go make sure she's not also being ambushed and/or murdered like a little girl." She vanished without another word.

"Made a friend, Spike?" Giles said, in that dry, not-quite-sarcastic tone he did so well.

The vampire shrugged. "Rather have her as a friend than an enemy. Rumor has it she's been fighting the Turok-Han on their own ground for months now. And since the other girl's about as useful in a fight as Potential Slayers One, Two, and Four through Twelve, I'm going to say we might could learn a few things."

"Yeah, well, I bet they're easier to kill when you can just pop out of nowhere behind them," Kennedy said defensively, as though she had been the one to initially fail to kill the thing, not Buffy.

"Bet they're not when you're surrounded by dozens of them. Look, if Buffy decides she doesn't want Shadow Girl's help, fine. But until she says the word, yeah, seems like the thing to do, getting our visitors on-side."

"But what if she was sent by the First?" Kennedy asked. "She _is_ a demon, right?"

Before Spike could come up with a response to that, Buffy came sprinting out of the darkness, a look of fierce determination on her face...which was quickly replaced with confusion as she registered that they were all just standing around a bunch of dead Bringers talking about allying with a goddamned _shadow demon_. (Willow had never heard of a shadow demon before, and how was a demon supposed to be _half-human_? Was that like a vampire? Did she have a soul? Or was she evil and under the control of the First?)

"Creepy kid said you were attacked," Buffy offered, by way of explanation.

"Uh, yeah. _Were_. Got it handled, Slayer."

"I see that. And...everyone?"

"We were coming to see if the cavalry might have been needed," Willow told her. "You got to Xander alright?"

"Yes, Xander! Where is he?"

"Ah... We were a couple of blocks behind. He's hurt, so—"

"He's _hurt_?"

"He's fine, Anya," Spike assured her.

"Buffy just said he's _hurt_."

"He lost a lot of blood," Buffy clarified. "But he'll be fine. I left him with the demon girls—"

"You left him with a teenage succubus?"

Buffy gave her a very flat look, which should have clued her in to the fact that she was being sarcastic when she said, "Yes, silly me, you'd better go save him," but Anya could be a bit...oblivious about that sort of thing.

"Well... _maybe I will_ ," she snapped, stalking off in the direction Buffy had come from.

" _Pft_ , vengeance demons," Spike scoffed. "She's not really a succubus, for the record," he called after her, but Anya didn't answer, so either she hadn't heard him, or she was just looking for an excuse to go check on Xander in the first place.

"No, but she might be some kind of incarnation of the First," Buffy said. "You know, manipulating us to some unknown, nefarious end. She doesn't act like she knows us quite as well as the fake dead people, but she knows more than she should, and... I don't know, there's just something _off_ about her. Claims to be a witch who can't do magic in this universe, admits that they're _not nice people_ — she said they practice the dark arts, she and the creepy kid, in their home dimension — but claims all she wants is a shower, which, I don't know... I don't trust her. But I don't think she's going to try to hurt us, physically, so maybe it's better to have her where we can keep an eye on her?"

She threw a helpless, uncertain look at Giles, who took a moment to clean his glasses before saying, "It really is up to you, Buffy. Not having met the other one, I can't properly offer an opinion, but as of the moment, I'm more concerned about— Bella, was it?"

Buffy nodded. "I think Zee's the more dangerous one, though. Bella just seems to kill things, which, as long as she's killing evil things, I can't really complain. Zee's... She seems too innocent and too...not innocent, all at once, you know? Like she's up to something. And from what we've seen, Bella follows her orders."

Spike snorted at that. "From what _I've_ seen, Shadow Girl just likes fighting. I really don't think they're with the First, though. Yeah, they're definitely evil, but things from other dimensions... Remember Glory?" Of course they all remembered Glory. Glory had been... Buffy had _died_ , stopping her. "I don't think the First can control people from _outside_. It'd be a bit like Glory having power and dominion over demons and vampires here, just because she was a god in her own dimension, wouldn't it."

"It could still be manipulating them, though," Giles pointed out.

"Yeah, and we wouldn't necessarily know — I mean, earlier, we couldn't hear it talking to Andrew unless it wanted us to."

"Maybe. They did just get here, though, didn't they?" Willow was fairly certain Spike had said they'd come from the same portal as the Turok-Han. "Do we think the First's influence extends into the hell dimension they came from?"

Buffy let out a frustrated growl. "There's just too many things we don't _know_. They're coming home with us now, but I think we're going to have to just...keep an eye on them. I'll stay up and keep watch tonight, and then Giles, you and Willow keep an eye on them tomorrow? Maybe explain the situation to them, try to see if they know anything that could help, and we'll pow-wow after school?"

Giles didn't look too certain about that plan, but when he didn't actually object, Willow nodded. "I'm sure they'll spend most of the day asleep. I would, if I'd just crawled out of hell. And we'll have Spike, and Kennedy..." She smiled as Kennedy's hand crept into hers, fingers threading through her own in silent support. "We'll be fine."

"Alright, sounds like a plan." Sounded like relief to Willow, in Buffy's voice. She really wasn't enjoying the responsibilities of leadership. The more people joined their effort to resist the First, the more stressed she seemed to get, all spread thin and worn around the edges.

Giles sighed. "I suppose we can put them in the basement, keep them at least _somewhat_ contained..."

"I figured we'd keep _this_ thing in the basement," Spike said, kicking the nearest Bringer's corpse...which apparently wasn't a corpse.

"Good _Lord_ , you actually managed to capture one?"

"Awesome," Kennedy said, not sounding sarcastic at all. "Questioning that thing sounds a hell of a lot better than getting Andrew to spy on the First."

"Wait, the First is talking to Andrew again? Since when?"

"Tonight. Tried to convince him to murder us all, but he told it no," Kennedy explained.

"They tried to send the poor boy in wearing a wire," Giles added, trying not to laugh.

"Hey! It was a good plan! We learned things—"

"Like _what_?" Spike interrupted. "Here I thought the only thing we established is that you can't record it."

"Like it's not omniscient," Willow snapped. "Even if it claims to be. It's not even watching the people it's been talking to _all_ the time. It didn't _know_ Andrew was wearing a wire at first, and it was angry when it found out. I don't know about you guys, but I think if I knew my enemies were trying to spy on me, and I knew _when_ , I'd _use_ that, give them false information, and I think if the First did, it would too. That's what it _does_ , right? Lie, and trick people? But if I was going to do that, I wouldn't yell and threaten them for spying, I'd pretend I didn't know. So I'm pretty sure it really didn't know." Willow _thought_ that made sense. She'd been thinking it through while she'd been trying not to worry about Xander all night, and she was pretty sure knowing that this thing wasn't as powerful as it claimed was important information.

"Well, I guess that's _something_ ," Buffy said, apparently not understanding the significance of it.

Giles did, though. "That's actually really... Very good, Willow."

"No need to sound so surprised," Kennedy muttered in her ear. Willow smiled, just a little. Kennedy didn't much like Giles. Mostly, she thought, because he had been noticeably cool toward Willow since, well...the entire time Kennedy had been here, going back to Willow's time in England, really. He still didn't entirely trust her, any more than the coven did. Willow didn't really blame them — she wasn't sure she entirely trusted _herself_ , so she couldn't really expect anyone else to. Kennedy just...didn't understand how dangerous magic could be, hadn't really seen Willow _do_ anything.

Though the fact that Giles obviously disapproved of their relationship really didn't help either, she thought, as he started in on lecturing Buffy for going on a date tonight. She'd made the mistake of asking what else she'd missed, and of course he'd had to point out that she wouldn't have missed anything if she hadn't been off 'investigating' the principal, who...apparently was a freelance demon-hunter himself?

"Hey, guys?"

"Xander!" He was leaning heavily on Anya, trailed by a smirking teenage girl — presumably the not-succubus, though Willow wasn't sure why Spike would have called her one. She looked perfectly ordinary to her, not _especially sexy_ or anything. Maybe kind of cute, in an _I've been living in a post-apocalyptic hellscape_ sort of way, and more composed than Willow might have expected for someone who'd just escaped from one, but definitely not magically so. Her hair, while greasy, was braided neatly out of her face, and where the other girl was positively _covered_ in mud and gore, this one only had a few smudges on her face. There was a patina of dirt on her skin, of course, and her clothes were torn, too, but not nearly as badly as the one who'd been doing the fighting. Her shirt had obviously been butchered to bind the lower part of her loose, flowing pants more closely to her calves, revealing quite a lot of her midriff, and the neck was torn, exposing one shoulder — but this was _California_ , Spike saw girls wearing more revealing outfits literally every night.

"Hey, Will. I'm fine."

"Where's the other one?" Buffy asked, sounding rather concerned. "Bella."

"She got bored, so I suggested that she go clean up a bit — deal with the bodies and maybe disassemble that little ritual room while she's at it... Cover up the portal... Scrape off the blood and viscera as best she can — I assume you wouldn't like something quite so nasty as she is at the moment dragged into your house. She'll catch up."

"What's she going to do with the bodies?" Buffy asked suspiciously, as though she was going to eat them, or something.

The girl, Willow hadn't caught her name, shrugged. "I did tell her not to burn anything, so...drag them into the local shadow plane and leave them for scavengers? Quite frankly, I don't really care."

"Not to break up the interrogation," Xander interrupted, "But can we talk back at the house? I'd really like to be in a more horizontal position right about now."

"Oh? Here I was thinking you might need a little time to recover before assuming a more horizontal position," the girl said, giving him a wicked grin.

He went _very_ red, considering that he'd just been used as a blood sacrifice.

"Back off, little girl! Just because he was on a sham date with one demon slut doesn't mean he needs another one sniffing around him like a horny bunny!"

The girl laughed. "Horny bunny is a new one... I was under the impression the two of you were no longer a couple, but if you're going to be _jealous_ , we can make it a threesome. Hate sex can be fun." Okay, Willow could kind of see the succubus thing now.

"You know what I meant," Xander finally managed to say. "I'm about ten minutes from passing out, so more with the walking, less with the...standing around in the middle of the street surrounded by dead people."


	4. Back at H.Q.

"Do you think they're alright?"

"I don't know, Andrew."

There was silence for a few brief minutes before, "It's just, it's been half an hour. Maybe we should call them."

"If they're trying to be sneaky or in a fight, the last thing they need is us calling them. Besides, it takes fifteen minutes to walk to school from here." And that was if no one was hurt, or unconscious, and they weren't attacked by anything along the way, and—

The front door lock clicked open, breaking Dawn out of her worried thoughts.

"They're back!"

 _Thank you, Captain Obvious_. "Back up so they can actually get _in_."

Honestly, Dawn had a really hard time believing that naïve, excitable Andrew was supposed to be almost Buffy's age. He backed up, babbling about how relieved he was that they were all back, generally being his usual annoying self and blocking Dawn's view of the door. She had to poke him in the ribs to see Buffy carefully maneuvering an exhausted-looking, stumbling Xander into the house, followed by...everyone else, and a stranger maybe a little older than Dawn. "Is that another new Potential?"

"No, Dawnie— Why are you still up? You have to be up for school in like—" She helped Xander onto the couch before checking the time. "Two and a half hours!"

"Yeah, not much point going to sleep at this point," she muttered, though Buffy had stopped paying attention to Dawn as soon as the words were out of her mouth, _of course_. "Hi," she said to the new girl. "I'm Dawn, Buffy's my sister."

"Mirabella Zabini," she said, with one of those _ever so posh_ English accents — more like Giles than Spike, though not quite the same as his, or any of the other British girls either. "My friends call me Mira."

Okay. Mira. _Mira, Mira, Mira_. Dawn repeated to herself. (She was usually pretty good with names, but there were a _lot_ of new people around, lately. She'd gotten Chloe's name wrong earlier, at dinner, so embarrassing...)

"Hey, Zee," another, smaller girl said, appearing out of nowhere at her side — completely naked, and apparently completely un-self-conscious about that fact. "Do you have any idea how hard it is moving dirt without magic? I think I actually have a _blister_ ," she complained, frowning at her left palm. Dawn thought she probably had bigger problems, given that she was covered in cuts and bruises in various stages of healing.

"Or Zee," Mira added, rolling her eyes at the other girl. "Bella, what happened to your clothes?"

"Er...I wore them for an indefinite but significant period of time while fighting the Powers only know how many Fiends, and then blew up an N.H.B's head all over them? Pretty sure you were there... Oh, and I got some blood from those eyeless bastards on them, too. They were pretty much a lost cause. Figured being a good houseguest and not tracking _all that nasty blood and worse_ into the house was a higher priority than body modesty. Hi! I'm Bella."

"This is Dawn, Buffy's sister. Dawn, this is Bella Black, she's—"

"Wait!" Anya interrupted, spinning around to face the four of them. (Andrew was still all wide-eyed and stupefied over the naked girl who had casually appeared in front of him, but he was still there.) "Bella _Black_? Is that like _Angel_ Black?"

"Yeah, she's my...sister, more or less."

"I _knew_ you felt familiar! ...She didn't send you, did she?"

"Who is Angel Black?" Dawn asked — because Anya had sounded almost _scared_ , asking that.

"Er...she's kind of like a High Priestess of the First in a dimension where there's a _lot_ more magic around."

"Close. She's an Avatar of the Dark," Bella corrected her. "And no, she didn't send us. I don't even think she knows I went on holiday. Well, I guess Tom might have told her... I take it you've met?"

"She dropped in on a party I threw in Saint Petersburg back when I was a vengeance demon. The first time I was a vengeance demon, I mean."

"Must have been a hell of a party."

"Well, Hallie was very impressed, but—" For a brief moment, Anya looked _very_ flattered, apparently before remembering she wasn't a vengeance demon anymore ( _again_ ). "No. You– You're her _sister_? Are you evil, too?"

"Evil is such a _relative_ term."

Mira's attempt to deflect the question wasn't terribly successful, because Bella just said, "By your standards, yes, probably."

" _Bella_!" Mira snapped, even as Xander let out a yelp of pain, which was obviously more worthy of Anya's attention than debating the evilness of the demon who had just appeared naked in their living room. Seriously, could no one else see her? It _was_ awfully crowded, and everyone was fussing over Xander, but how had no one else noticed a naked kid appearing in the room?

" _What_?"

" _Are you evil_ is a complicated question that requires a more nuanced answer than _yes, probably_."

"Hey, I was just following your lead with the whole not being evasive thing."

"Yes, but telling them that you're evil is going to make them think we're aligned with this villain of theirs. We're not," she informed Dawn and Andrew, as though this would be at _all_ reassuring. Andrew actually edged forward to poke the girl who'd appeared out of nowhere in the shoulder.

He pulled back with an _eep_ and "Sorry! Sorry!" when she glared at him. "She's not the First," he announced, from a position of hiding half behind Dawn.

"No, I'm Bella, I thought we just covered that. Who are you?" she asked.

Dawn answered for him, because he didn't seem capable of speech at the moment. "This is Andrew. He's our prisoner. Also, an idiot. Ignore him."

Bella shrugged. "'Kay. We brought you a better one. Prisoner, I mean. Though I guess he might also be an idiot. One of those eyeless guys. Spike was carrying him, not sure what he did with him..."

"You captured a Bringer?"

"You say that like it's hard. I mean, they're not _bad_ fighters, but they aren't exactly Fiends, are they. I mean, muggles are absurdly easy to kidnap, even if they _are_ possessed by some intangible malevolent force."

"Muggles?" Dawn repeated. "And what's a Fiend?"

"Non-magical humans," Mira informed her. "And you call the Fiends Turok-Han. Bella, just...stop talking. You're not helping. Look, can we just get that bath, and maybe borrow some clothes? And if you want us to go after that, I swear, we'll leave."

"Er...yeah," Dawn said, tearing her eyes away from Bella and her completely innocent expression. No one should be able to talk about killing those uber-vamps so casually — just _one_ had almost killed _Buffy_. She was kind of surprised Buffy had let them come to the house if they were really that dangerous. Even if Mira _did_ seem more desperate and exasperated than threatening. "Bathroom's upstairs, second door on the left. You can borrow something from me, but I don't know if... Maybe Buffy has some old stuff that might fit Bella, but we don't exactly have a lot of kids running around here."

Bella pouted. "Seriously, Zee, how old do I look?"

"To anyone who doesn't have the rest of the British nobility to compare you to? Thirteen. _Maybe_ fourteen? Face it, Bella, you're going to look like a kid until you're thirty."

"I'm only a couple of months younger than Zee," the kid informed Dawn, vaguely annoyed.

"I still don't think we have anything that will fit you."

"We'll make do with anything you can find. Thank you, Dawn," Mira said, relief and sincerity in every line of her face.

"Uh...no problem," she replied, even as Mira brushed past Andrew (smirking as he made another girly squeaking sound), dragging Bella toward the stairs by an elbow.

As soon as they were out of sight, he said, "They seem evil to me. Maybe we should — someone should...keep an eye on them? I mean, with the girls..."

"Oh, yeah, because you're the expert on evil. And I'm pretty sure the Potentials can defend themselves better than you."

"I didn't mean _me_ , but just maybe to... I dunno, sound the alarm, or whatever." She gave him a flat, unimpressed look. "Oh, fine."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Come on, there's some bags of old clothes out in the garage..."

"Dawn?" Damn it. Of course Buffy couldn't be bothered to spend a single minute with her when she _wasn't_ busy, only when she was trying to get something done. "Where did Zee go?"

"Bathroom? She said you said they could get cleaned up."

"They? Both of them? The little one, too?"

"Yes, they, plural. She needed a shower even more than Mira, so... What's the big deal?"

"All the Potentials are sleeping up there, and she can explode people's heads! You didn't think maybe someone should keep an eye on them?"

"Told you," Andrew muttered. She slapped him in the chest. " _Ow_..."

"Fine, if you want to watch a couple of teenage lesbians shower, Buffy, go right ahead. I'm going to find some clothes for them."

"Lesbians?" Andrew echoed, following her through the kitchen. Dawn wasn't really sure when, but he seemed to have developed the impression that she actually liked his company, and wasn't just always left behind to keep an eye on him because it was safer than letting her tag along with the Potentials.

"Oh, come on, did you not see the way they were standing? The way they looked at each other? I bet they're totally a couple. And it's way less creepy than I thought if they're really the same age."

"Are you sure? I mean... They seemed like they were just friends to me. I mean, I don't think they looked at each other any special way. I mean, I'd look at Warren that way, or Xander, or— It was a perfectly normal look!" Andrew could deny it all he liked, but he was _definitely_ gay, so that was really only more evidence for Dawn's theory.

Which was totally confirmed when she finally got upstairs with clothes for them. Buffy was sitting in the hallway outside the bathroom looking _mortified_ , because those were _definitely_ sex-like moans coming from the other side of the door. Dawn bit her lip trying not to laugh.

 _Oh, shut up_ , Buffy mouthed at her, whereupon she totally failed.

And, since they'd probably heard her as well as she'd heard them, she went ahead and knocked. "Hey, I'm leaving some clothes out here for you guys."

" _Ooh_ , thank you, Dawn."

"And also, I can totally hear you out here."

Mira laughed. "In that case, you can bring them in, if you like."

"Um, no, thanks. I'm just going to..." Eavesdrop. She was going to eavesdrop, with Buffy, because no one ever told her _anything_ , and who knew what the strangers might say when they thought no one was listening?

As soon as she sat down, though, Buffy glared at her and stood up, dragging her back to her feet and halfway down the stairs. " _Dawn, what are you doing?_ " she hissed.

"Same thing as you? Did I miss anything interesting?"

"No, what I could make out over the water was just discussing how long they'd actually been gone from their own world, and whether to stay here — apparently Spike offered to show them a few places to squat if we kicked them out, or even if here was just getting too crowded, which...it kind of is — and whether there was anywhere around here to get food, and if they could save the little one's hair."

Probably not, Dawn thought. "Nothing suspicious, though?"

Buffy frowned. "No. I wonder if they knew I was there..."

"Yeah, well, when I was in the kitchen just now, Spike said to tell you that they have the Bringer tied up in Andrew's prisoner chair down in the basement, if you want to come down and help beat some answers out of him."

After a moment of hesitation, she decided, "Oh, fine. I probably shouldn't be out here when they finish." Dawn smirked. "You know what I mean! I just don't want them to know I was listening in!"

"That really wasn't much better..."

"Shut up," Buffy said, with all the authority she could muster, heading off down the stairs. It really wasn't very much.


	5. Meet Molly

"It's just so _short_ ," Mira said, inspecting Bella's hair from behind as she followed her down the stairs. It didn't look _bad_ (of course it didn't, she had cut it), but... "I don't know, you just don't look right without another six inches of fluff on top."

She looked _smaller_ , which really shouldn't be possible — she was already _tiny_ , five-nothing and skinny as a reed, no chest or hips to speak of. (She looked like a child, which _did_ make quite a lot of people look at Mira sideways, when they realised that she was fucking her — even more so with Tom.) She was stronger than she looked, of course, but Mira still found it positively baffling that she wouldn't use her size and general _adorableness_ to her advantage, focus her energies in a more deceptive direction. She was beautiful, with her wide dark eyes and flawlessly pale skin, and the bone structure the Blacks were all known for — delicate, but striking, and normally topped by a glorious mane of dark curls — and probably the most intelligent person Mira had ever met. It was true that she had no inherent ability to understand people, but she'd come so far over the past five years in learning to interpret their behavior as a complete outsider that Mira refused to believe that if she wanted to she couldn't perfect the skills necessary to charm and manipulate. One could still cause plenty of chaos and conflict without getting involved in the fighting oneself — Eris herself couldn't possibly disagree with that, given, well... _Troy_.

But no, Bella was a Black, drawn to violence like a moth to a flame. They called it battle madness — not so very different from their usual madness, really, allowing magic and adrenaline to take them over, driven by bloodlust and the exhilaration of truly being in danger, fighting for their lives. Bella claimed it was the best thing she'd ever felt, the only place she belonged, dancing on the border between life and death. ( _If you aren't about to die, Zee, you're not really_ alive — she had positively _loved_ that last hell world.) She _needed_ it, and she was good at it. Amazing, really. Endless practice, inbred bloody-minded stubbornness, and a pathological lack of concern for her own safety were, Mira thought, the greatest reasons she had managed to become as skilled as she had, but the boundless energy all of the Blacks seemed to have, especially in a fight, couldn't be discounted, either. Unfortunately, that same manic energy could make it damn near _impossible_ to get her to sit still for ten minutes, especially for something as frivolous and tedious as putting her hair up _without magic_.

"It will puff up when it dries."

Yes, and she probably wouldn't do anything with it then, either. "I told you, you should have let me plait it for you. But _no_ , you wanted to run around like a feral _child_ , and now look."

"It'll grow back." And just chopping it off had been _much_ faster than letting Mira work all the knots out by hand, which was _far_ more important to Bella than what she happened to look like on any given day. (Sometimes it was incredibly frustrating, having Bellatrix Black for a best friend.) Not that she wouldn't look even _more_ adorably fae with a dark halo of untamed curls, but that wasn't the point.

"I know, but I _liked_ your hair! You know you kind of look like a boy, now, right?"

Bella smirked, Mira could hear it in her voice. "But my head's so much _lighter_ now. And I kind of like the androgynous look." Of course she did. Mira found it _deeply_ ironic that the concept of femininity meant so little to someone so effortlessly lovely. "Besides, most of the boys in my family kind of look like girls."

She snorted, trying not to laugh, because that _was_ true, especially when they were young. "They're not going to like that you burnt it in the loo, either."

"I wasn't going to leave my hair lying around in a world that only has ritual magic. I mean, I wouldn't at home, either, but I bet their use of ritual is far more developed than our own — more like the goblins', maybe. Can you even _imagine_ what they might be able to do with it?"

Yes, Mira knew _why_ she had destroyed it, but, "You could have done it _outside_ , it's going to take _hours_ to air out the smell."

"Are you just complaining for the sake of complaining?"

Well, kind of, yes. Mostly because Bella would rather go find some abandoned house to squat in than try to sleep in a house with a dozen other people she didn't know, and Mira couldn't really object to that, given that _she_ would only feel comfortable sleeping around them if Bella was staying up to keep watch, but it was still _so_ annoying. There were _beds_ here, and _sofas_ — hell, she'd settle for a nice armchair, at the moment! And they were probably going to end up in an empty, dusty room in some sketchy area of town, and Bella probably wouldn't sleep _anyway_ , she just didn't want to spend six hours or so sitting around doing nothing. So yes, she was in a rather contrary mood.

"No, you're being a poor guest. And I have to say, I don't really think they'd be able to do much with it at all, or not the ones I've met. They're all so very... _civilian_ , even compared to _my_ family." Which was kind of saying a lot, because Mira's parents and baby brother were about as normal and harmless as it was possible to be. "I mean, have you met their— Oh, call on the Dark. Willow, wasn't it?"

The redheaded witch looked exhausted, but she was reading something when they reached the bottom of the stairs — a heavy text she'd propped up on her knees, sitting sideways on the sofa. They had spoken, briefly, while Bella was off getting rid of bodies and shoveling dirt by hand, and the rest of them had been making their way back to the house, letting the injured Xander set the pace. Mira had gotten the overwhelming impression that Willow was scared of her own abilities. There was just something about her tone when she'd admitted that she was the strongest witch on the team, something that hinted that she really was _very_ powerful, but hadn't the experience to _use_ it with any effectiveness, and so feared that she would hurt herself or her friends trying, rather than the enemy they had set themselves against.

"Oh! Yes, sorry, didn't see you, I was just— It's not important. Feeling better?"

"Mmm, much," Zee said, only _slightly_ suggestively. She was fairly certain that the relationship between this one and the would-be fighter, Kennedy, was new enough that she was too wrapped up in it to consider straying from it, but it never hurt to hint that there might be a chance, if she happened to be interested. "Bella, this is Willow, the senior witch in this little operation."

"Oh, um," the witch stuttered. "We met, just for a minute, though. And I'm kind of the only witch here. Well, there's Giles and Anya, but they aren't really _witches_. They just do spells sometimes."

"I think your definition of _witch_ and ours might be slightly different."

"Our understanding of magic is almost _bound_ to be different," Bella pointed out. "As I understand it, this plane is oriented significantly differently from ours in the third, seventh, _and_ eighth aspects. But we can talk about that later." They would have to, because Mira hadn't the faintest idea how this extra-planar navigation thing worked, or where they were, or even where their own world was. There hadn't really been much time to discuss the matter while being attacked by hordes of monsters. "Where is everyone?"

"Oh, well... Anya took Xander home, and Kennedy said she was going to get some sleep, and everyone else is...downstairs. With the...prisoner."

"They started without me? _Tch_ , that wanker. He _knew_ I wanted to know what this whole _First_ thing is about!"

"Wh— You mean Spike? You guys really hit it off, huh?"

Mira wasn't sure she would go _that_ far, but compared to the humans in the group, yes, Bella had probably gotten on best with the vampire — which probably also meant something different in this world than it did in her own... He was the only member of the welcoming party who hadn't felt _innocent_ to Mira. The others weren't _entirely_ sheltered, of course — they wouldn't have been in that basement if they were — but Mira would be willing to bet that Bella's baby cousin Sirius had more experience with the dark side of human nature, the cruelty that people were capable of, than the Slayer and her friends. Granted, Bella and Mira had a rather skewed perspective on humanity themselves. Given that Spike had been shagging the member of the group specifically tasked with killing beings she arbitrarily decided were 'evil', it seemed unlikely that he'd done anything quite as twisted as she and Bella had, at least recently.

Bella shrugged. "He's alright. Though if he started without me, I might have to flay his sorry vamp arse." Willow winced. Mira glared at Bella, just in case she hadn't caught it. Apparently she had, as she gave the native witch an exasperated sigh. " _Hyperbole_. I'm not going to skin anyone while I'm a guest under your roof. _Happy_?" That last bit was directed at Mira, who _was_ reluctantly amused, at least.

"Maybe extend that to not physically harming any of their allies in general."

"Yes, yes, I'll play nice. Promise," she said, giving Willow a look which was probably intended to be reassuring, but actually came off as slightly annoyed. "So... _where_ is everyone?"

"Ah, in the basement. Here," she said, heaving the book aside. "I'll show you. Not really my cup of tea, dealing with, you know, _questioning prisoners_."

"Not mine either," Zee said, her own sympathetic reluctance spot-on, albeit entirely false. She didn't mind helping out with a bit of torture as long as it wasn't _messy_. It was true that she didn't enjoy it as much as Bella, or _nearly_ as much as Tom, but she was more than willing to join them for a night or weekend of fun and games every so often. It wasn't as though she was a stranger to the concept.

"Yes, well, aren't you lucky I'm here, then," Bella said, rolling her eyes in case the sarcasm wasn't clear.

"Um...I think Buffy and Spike can probably handle it..." Willow didn't sound entirely convinced about that, probably because Buffy was, aside from being absurdly strong and durable for a human, a very normal teenage girl (albeit one under quite a lot of stress), and Spike was apparently trying to pretend he was still human — hard to believe he really had over a century on him already. She would give him kudos on his self-control, fighting alongside humans without more than the occasional longing glance toward their wounds — it had been pretty clear he hadn't wanted to spend much time too close to the obviously weak and bloody would-be sacrifice, probably too tempting — but still... Ethical vampirism was ridiculous. The witch showed them to the staircase, anyway. "I'm going to stay up here."

"That's fine, I'm sure we can just follow the sound of a lot of talking and no one at all screaming in pain from here."

" _Bella_!"

" _What?_ " She skipped down the stairs before Mira could answer — not that she would have considered _that sounded too dark_ to be a legitimate criticism, anyway. At least the comment _could_ be construed as a joke, if one in rather poor taste.

They quickly reached the bottom of the stairs, which opened onto a perfectly normal-looking muggle basement, unfinished and obviously used for storage and laundry more often than interrogations. There was even a cot down here — presumably Spike stayed over often enough to require a place to sleep well out of the sun.

The only other real furniture was a rather fragile-looking chair, situated beneath a single bare lightbulb, to which the Bringer had been tied. It was conscious, 'staring' at its captors with a blank, eyeless sort of malevolence. They — Buffy, Spike, and Giles — had formed a small huddle a few metres away from it, while the boy, Andrew (what was he even doing here?), kept an eye on the thing from the relative safety of the top of a boxy metal machine of some sort.

"Brilliant," Spike said, noticing their arrival. "Shadow Girl, any ideas on how to get a servant of evil to talk when he hasn't got a tongue?"

Oh, that would make it more difficult, Mira supposed. Tom would use mind magic, but that wasn't really an option for any of them. Even if legilimency did work in this world, Bella was pants at mind magic, and while Mira did have some natural talent for the art, the damage which had been done to her mind as a child (in a well-meaning but entirely misguided attempt to modify some of her more disturbingly dark, unchildlike behaviours) made it _fantastically_ unwise for her to attempt to consciously legilimise anyone. She _always_ lost herself, and tended to impress an echo of her own instabilities on the target in a sort of pseudo-possession incident. Tom said it was a trip, but even he admitted that she _really_ shouldn't go poking around the mind of anyone who _wasn't_ a properly trained legilimens, because they would inevitably have to disentangle Mira's consciousness from their own — she simply couldn't do it herself.

Actually, legilimency might be out even if Tom were here, because the prisoner was already possessed by something that was presumably much stronger than he was. Though that did mean they were really trying to talk to _that_ thing, the so-called First Evil, not the Bringer itself.

Bella had apparently reached this same conclusion. "You could just summon the thing possessing him, I guess. I mean, can't really torture it, but it might have something to say for itself, anyway."

"How would you go about something like that, precisely?" Giles asked.

"Is this some kind of test?" It wasn't, he really didn't know any more than they did about the situation, much to his chagrin. "I don't know, I've only been in this universe for like, two hours. I don't know how summoning rituals work here."

"It's listening to us already," Mira pointed out, staring at the prisoner. His face turned toward her as though he was staring back. "This is simply an extension of its will, yes? And it's _not_ omniscient, so it seems likely it can only perceive the world through its servants, or if it manifests directly. And as we have one of its servants _here_ , I suspect we can safely assume that it's already here, even if it hasn't made itself visible to us," she pointed out.

Whereupon it apparently decided to make itself visible, taking on the form of twelve-year-old Jack Barrington, as he'd looked the day she'd convinced him that it was too bad he hadn't been picked this year, but he would _definitely_ be made seeker if he could demonstrate a proper suicide dive at the Slytherin team's tryouts _next_ year. Not to mention _she_ would find it _very_ impressive... Yes, the weather _was_ rather wretched, but he should probably start practising right away, and he was already _such_ a good flier, she was sure he would handle the conditions _marvelously_ , and there was no guarantee that the trials would be held on a day with fine weather, anyway...

'Jack' clapped sarcastically slowly in her direction, a smirk that would have looked more appropriate on Bella creeping across his face.

"Who are you supposed to be, now?" Buffy asked it.

"Why don't you ask your new friend? _Mira_ — don't you recognise me?"

"Of course I do. Is that supposed to be unnerving? You'll have to try a bit harder than _that_ , darling."

"You killed me, Mira. My blood is on your hands," he accused her, slowly shifting to portray the slightly crushed, broken-necked thing they'd scraped off the quidditch pitch on a particularly rainy, blustery day a few weeks later. She smirked at it, thinking very pointedly, _maybe try someone I haven't already killed once?_

The heads of the other four snapped around to look her. "Is that true?" the Slayer demanded.

She shrugged. "Well I _did_ already tell you I'm not a nice person."

"You didn't tell me you'd killed some little boy! What did you _do_ to him?"

"We were the same age at the time," Bella pointed out. "And technically it was a flying accident."

And it was mostly Tom's fault, anyway — he'd bet that Mira couldn't do it, kill one of her year-mates and make it look like an accident, and since Mira had been trying to ingratiate herself with him, she'd taken the bait. It was _beyond_ obvious at that point that Bella _idolised_ him, and she had _needed_ Bella to want her around — not only was she the most powerful and potentially influential of their yearmates, but she was the only person Mira didn't have to be careful not to act _too dark_ around. She'd kept her at a distance all through first year, despite Mira's best efforts to seduce her (into deeply codependent friendship, if nothing else), and she'd been feeling a bit desperate about the whole matter. She had been annoyed about Tom manipulating her into it at the time (he'd been _very_ smug about the whole thing), but it had worked out well — he and Bella had started including her in more of their _extra-curricular activities_ , Bella had completely dropped her (rather half-hearted) act of normalcy when they were alone, and Tom had started giving her pointers on some of her own projects.

He'd also told her what he'd found when he'd started poking about in her mind the year before, in an attempt to answer Bella's question of _why is Zee so weird about, you know, normal people things?_ which was probably the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Tom Riddle probably wasn't the sort of man _most_ people would want as a mind-healer, but he _was_ an extremely talented mind mage, and considered the compulsions to believe in the value of other humans' lives and emotional wellbeing which had been forced upon her _far_ more problematic than her natural tendencies toward more antisocial (and disturbingly unchildlike) behaviors. He'd taught her to work around them, largely neutralise them without further damaging her sense of identity — her initial resistance to them had more or less shattered her. Simply explaining what was going on — she hadn't known, as a child, what the mind-healers had done to her — had been _enormously_ helpful in resolving the fundamental dissonance in her understanding of herself. Of course, he'd almost certainly had an impact on that new understanding, philosophically if not magically — and possibly magically as well, he was _very_ subtle — but she really didn't care. He and Bella accepted her for the selfish, manipulative bitch that she was, gave her a place to belong, taught her to revel in the thoughts and behaviors that everyone else reviled. If it had taken a few suggestions here or there to make her fit more perfectly into their (admittedly weird and highly incestuous) family dynamic, she was fine with that.

Bella, oblivious to the direction of Mira's thoughts, was still talking. "Hey, the Second Jack, why can't I see you? Or hear you, for that matter. Not _shy_ , are we?"

"You— There is something _wrong_ about the shape of your mind. What are you?"

"Zee, did the apparition just try to ask me a question?" Bella asked, as the natives of this dimension turned from her to 'Jack' and back again.

"It did, yes."

"Can it hear _me_? Because I'm pretty sure I just said I can't hear it."

"Oh, yes, it can."

"Did it take on little Jackson's level of intelligence as well, or was it always this stupid?" Bella asked the room at large.

"You _dare_ insult _me_ , little girl?" it demanded, its illusion growing larger, looming over Bella...completely pointlessly, given that she couldn't see it. "I, the first and greatest of evils known to man! I, who existed before you pitiful humans, and will continue long after the last human bone has withered to _dust!_ You know nothing of what I am—" Mira found herself _entirely_ unable to prevent a snort of laughter at that, but the projection would not be deterred from its pointless tirade. It twisted and shifted into the form of a middle-aged witch, afflicted by half a dozen mutation curses and human-to-animal transfigurations, the right half of her body vivisected to examine the internal effects. Her left eye was wide and horrified, staring blankly at a world she could not believe was reality...though she hadn't really had any idea what was real and what _wasn't_ , at that point. "I am death and madness, destruction and ruin follow in my wake! The balance is broken, and when I have brought this world to its knees, this woman's torment will be _nothing_ to the horrors you will suffer."

"It looks like Cheryl Lynch now, and is standing about an inch from your left ear whispering...completely baseless threats."

"I will live in your dreams and waking nightmares, possess your body and shatter your mind — you will take refuge in madness, but there will be no respite—"

"Pretty sure if it can't get in your head to make you see it, it can't get in your head to drive you mad."

"Even if it _could_ get into my head, I'm skeptical as to whether such an impotent, uncreative villain as the natives have described could _possibly_ have _any_ impact on my non-existent sanity, anyway. I'm not impressed."

"You will be plagued by an army of my creatures, unable to rest for fear of death at their hands! All those around you, your friends and allies, they will turn against you, every one—"

Bella just blinked in the direction of the thing, presumably based on where the others' eyes were focused. "Are any of you impressed?" she asked them, sounding rather bored, and slightly annoyed.

The projection shifted again, taking on Buffy's face and voice and stalking forward to stare down the oblivious Bella. "I will _end_ you."

Mira decided to take pity on it. "Look, she's obviously immune to whatever magic you're using to steal images from our minds and project your presence into our perception. Unless you manifest properly, she's just going to keep insulting you, and you won't be able to respond. Personally, I find the _being silenced_ treatment incredibly frustrating, but..."

"What do I have to do to get in on this party? Warning you now, Jackyl, if I have to sacrifice someone, it's going to be the little boy in the corner. I hear you've spent some time attempting to bend him to your will already, so I assume you intend for him to play some role in your little plan."

"What?!" the boy exclaimed. "No! I do not volunteer to be a blood sacrifice!"

"No one is immune to my power — certainly not one capable of such acts as _this_!" It shifted back to poor Cheryl Lynch's form. "I am the darkness that lives in her soul, she cannot block me out any more than she could cut out her own heart!"

("I didn't really expect you to.")

"I think the darkness that _actually_ lives in her soul would take exception to that claim."

("Did _Jonathan_ volunteer?" Buffy asked pointedly.)

"What is that supposed to mean, child? Are you and she not the same?"

("Well...Warren-slash-the-First said he did...")

"No, not exactly. If you want to know, you'll have to ask her yourself."

("And of course we must _always_ believe _Warren-slash-the-First_.")

("I didn't know he was the First, then," the boy mumbled, before saying more forcefully, "If anyone's going to be sacrificed, it should be Spike, he's killed _way_ more people than I have!")

" _You_ are not immune to my touch — I could compel you to speak, drive you mad if you resist me."

("No one's sacrificing anyone," Giles said firmly.)

Mira smirked. She wasn't immune, no, but like Bella, her sanity was already a bit of a lost cause, and she _was_ good enough at occlumency to ignore it if she liked. She could feel it, trying to worm its way deeper into her mind even as it spoke. "Yes, well, you're welcome to try," she said, isolating her awareness of it and pushing it away. "But so far, I have to say, I'm not impressed either. You claim to be the First Evil, the Dark Itself — an awesome, fundamental aspect of the universe and human nature, but you're impotent to manipulate even _light_? I hate to mention it, but external magic doesn't get much easier than _that_ , pet."

"Well, _probably_ not. I'm fairly certain the Fundamental Misnomer wants the kid over there alive, and I already gave it my ultimatum. If it wants to tell me off, it can find the energy for itself. What's happening now, Zee?"

"I don't know, I'm ignoring it."

"You're...ignoring it," Giles repeated.

"Wish I could," Spike muttered.

"We spend rather a lot of time around a mind mage _far_ more subtle and invasive than this thing. We used to play a game where he would try to slip images, memories, and distracting thoughts into my mind, and I tried to ignore them." No matter how distracting they were. And Tom could be _very_ distracting. Flirty fucking bastard.

After a long moment, a ghostly form shimmered into sight — not Cheryl, but another one of Tom's former lovers. He'd gotten bored with her and told Bella and Mira to _be creative_. Nicely ironic, given that Mira had used mostly glamoury and memory modification spells to erase the line between fiction and reality in the witch's mind. Of course, it had helped that Bella had made reality by _far_ the less appealing of the two options. It had chosen to appear as she had been when she'd finally been allowed to die, a miserable grotesque which, like Cheryl, had been the subject of several partial human transfigurations (in this case well before Bella had mastered the art of said transfigurations) as well as a range of physical torments which had left open wounds and burns scattered across the variously transformed flesh, her life sustained despite what _should_ be dozens of mortal injuries by a spell that was borderline necromancy.

" _She did this to me_ ," it 'said', its voice diffuse and _hardly_ a convincing imitation of anything remotely human.

Bella sighed. "Are you trying to embarrass me, showing them my early work? I've come a long way since Yeager. I mean, it's perfectly obvious that there was no overall _plan_ with her, no purpose or unifying theme or underlying principle... I think my art appreciation professor would say it lacks compositional focus. Lynch was a _much_ better example," she informed them. It took every ounce of self-control for Mira to resist slapping a hand to her face. Apparently Bella wasn't even going to try to deny that this was every bit as bad as it looked, or that she was a far worse evil than anything they'd encountered before, including this little god with delusions of grandeur.

" _Who are you? You don't_ belong _here..."_

"Oh, well, I don't really belong anywhere, but no, we're on holiday. I'm Bella. This is Zee. I presume you _are_ some aspect of the Dark, or an incompletely subsumed acolyte or something, so you shouldn't have any trouble asking Angel Black who I am." The illusion winked out, leaving the natives of this dimension staring at Bella with fear, horror, and disgust, even the vampire. The sharp smell of urine penetrated the air as the boy in the corner actually pissed himself. Bella blinked at him. "I refuse to believe I'm actually that terrifying."

At that, Mira really _did_ slap a palm to her forehead. Of _course_ Bella was _that terrifying_. Even _Mira_ thought she was scary — she just happened to know that Bella was irrevocably bound to her and Tom in a blood pact preventing them from betraying each other, and that she was, in any case, irrationally loyal to the _very_ few people she chose to consider family. (The blood pact was _mostly_ insurance for Tom and Mira against each other, because neither was particularly trustworthy...and that was putting it _lightly_.) "Yes, well, I suspect this is a rather _softer_ world than ours. I imagine it comes of not having proper healing charms." Hopefully Bella would keep that in mind when she inevitably ended up fighting the Slayer. Wouldn't do to permanently disable their hostess, even if she did currently look like she wanted to take Bella's head off. "Plus, you and Tom are the only ones who think of _that_ as _art_."

"And Angel. Oh, call on the Dark," she said, grinning, as the illusion shimmered back into being, this time portraying a faded imitation of the Avatar of the Dark.

" _How did you get here? This universe doesn't touch your Crossroads._ "

"No, but the one that someone created as a rallying point for the Turok-Han does, and then someone opened a portal to here, so we thought we'd drop in for a change of pace." Because Bella had been _bored_ , and Mira had been living in constant fear for her life for however long they had been there, subjectively, which _could_ be characterised as wanting a change of pace, she supposed. Underselling it a bit, maybe. Mira would have let Bella take her through the Shadows if it would have gotten her out of there, and she _hated_ shadow-walking. (She had asked, but apparently, while there were _local_ shadow-lands both there _and_ here, neither were the same as those at home.)

" _You have seen my army? So you know the doom that awaits this world!_ "

Bella grinned. "Well, given that I killed _hundreds_ of them, and they couldn't kill one little _me_ , I have my doubts about that whole _doom_ thing, but it is a nice holiday spot. What exactly are you trying to accomplish, here? Theoretically, I mean."

" _I will wash the good from this world, a wave of evil falling across it, destroying all in its path! The balance is destroyed and now I shall_ strike _, raise those forces the humans have locked away from their slumber and awaken this world, return it to its proper order! The time of these pathetic_ animals _is_ over _._ "

"Look... Do you have a name? I refuse to call you the First Evil, that's just silly. I _know_ the Dark when I stand in its presence, and you're not it — ergo, you're not the first _anything_."

" _I_ am _the First Evil! I am the darkness that lives in the heart of men, I am_ eternal _!_ "

"Right, _one who believes herself to be hot shite_ it is, then." _One who believes herself to be hot shite_ was actually an unpronounceable Gobbledygook word, Mira just mentally replaced it with the translated phrase every time Bella said it, because click sounds were stupid. It was also the nickname Bella had assigned to one of their more annoying classmates a few years back.

Mira snorted. "Why not just call it Molly?"

"Fine. _Molly_ , then. I hate to break it to you, but nothing is eternal, and if you kill off all the humans where will you live? Plus, the real Angel's not _nearly_ so melodramatic. Also, if you were trying to convince me _not_ to destroy your army and ruin your game, promising a return to some _proper order_ is a kind of shite way to do it, even if that order _does_ involve the Dark coming into ascendency here."

 _Oh... Oh, no._ This wasn't going where Mira suddenly suspected it was going, was it?

" _You think to seal_ me _away? To ruin_ my _plans? You, you are nothing but a pathetic_ mortal—"

"Hey, keep going, Mollywobbles, maybe you'll convince me to find a way to actually kill you. I mean, I don't disapprove of the goal, but I actually do appreciate human society, you know, complex civilisation, _existing_. Now, granted, this isn't my universe, or even my _plane_ , but wreaking havoc on your plans sounds like a fine way to spend the next week or two to me."

_Fuck._

" _You jest! Surely you cannot intend to set yourself against a_ god _, human child! You cannot hope to prevail!_ "

"A, I'm sixteen, damn it! Not a little kid! B, there's a _reason_ gods have priestesses, you can't do _shite_ on mortal planes without mortal hands, and I'm a _much_ more effective hand than any of your little puppets. You may have noticed, eating their souls does tend to make them a bit useless. So yes, I can, in fact, hope to prevail. C, how exactly do you plan to stop me playing whatever games I like with you and your universe, given the aforementioned incompetency of your staff, and the fact that you can't touch me, even enough to make me see your little ghosts?"

" _I may not be able to touch_ your _mind, overconfident child, but those who surround you are hardly so well-protected. They will turn on you in the end, consumed by madness, hatred, and despair!"_ it repeated.

Bella just smirked. "Yeah, good luck turning Zee. I'd actually like to see which of you would lose it first if you actually tried to possess her. And everyone else in this universe already thinks I'm terrifying, _apparently_ , and I'm pretty sure you were going to fuck with their heads _anyway_ , so... Yeah, still not impressed."

" _Oh, you shall be, child, you_ shall _... Before this is done, you will bow before me and beg for mercy in the face of my overwhelming power!_ "

"Did you actually ask Angel about me or not? Because I'm starting to think you just stole her image and the overview of the last...however long we've been on holiday from Zee." It hadn't, she didn't think. Whatever method it was using to pull memories didn't seem to be very comprehensive when it came to emotional associations, so it seemed reasonable to assume that its method of communicating with the Greater Dark was also limited in some way or another. "Also, I'm gonna give your puppet there about another ten seconds or so before his life force gives out, supporting this little illusion, so if you have any last words, now would be the—" The illusion vanished suddenly as the Bringer died, like a candle blown out. "Oops, overestimated him just a tad." Bella shrugged. "So," she said, turning to the natives of this dimension, "I think that was a very productive conversation. What have we learned?"

They just stared at her with that same combination of fear and horror. After a moment, Mira said, "Only you, Bella, would go on holiday and end up picking a fight with a bloody _god_."

She grinned. "Should be fun, right?"

Yes. Fun. In a completely insane way, sure. She sighed. "I suppose it's better than the Fiends, at least. Nice holiday spot? Really?" At least this leg of the adventure involved _other people_. Actually, the more she thought about it, the more appealing it sounded — the game Molly was playing here was _much_ more Mira's sort of thing than Bella's. Attempting to counter its efforts could actually be an interesting challenge.

"Well, _I_ thought it was nice..."

Mira sighed, looking around at the faces still staring at them in horror. "So, I assume you would prefer we _not_ spend the night under your roof."

"I would prefer you not spend the night in my _universe_ ," Buffy said immediately.

"Fair enough. But we're definitely staying, now. I mean, I can't just go issuing a challenge like that and then skip off before I have to follow through on it. Looks bad. Angel would mock us literally forever."

After a beat of tense, awkward silence, Giles offered a cautious question. "What are you, exactly?"

"Didn't we already— Oh. Oops." That was almost certainly a response to some comment of Eris's. "Well, I'm a Black, so I was _always_ a child of the Dark, like before I was born — our bloodline was given over to it a few hundred years ago, it was this whole _thing_. We're all a little mad, but it's a functional madness. I dedicated _myself_ to Eris, goddess of chaos and strife and generally starting shite. I understand that she's known here? You can kind of think of me as her priestess, or her oracle, or kind of like those Bringer things, except she doesn't control me, she just kind of tags along and makes snarky comments at the back of my mind. She says hi, and also that magic misses Ripper. Is that you?" From the way he stiffened, it was. "I'm also shadow-kin, which means I _was_ human, or as human as anyone in my family, but I turned myself into a dark creature by subsuming raw darkness and forcing my body to adjust to it in ways that allowed me to survive doing so. It was kind of an accident, I was just trying to cheat at shadow walking. It is neat, though. My people would describe me as preternatural or, more generally, fae. Both more and less than human."

"And those— That— What it showed us?" Buffy apparently couldn't bring herself to think hard enough about what she'd seen to actually _describe_ their victims.

"That's really more of a hobby than something I _am_. And it's really more Tom's hobby at that. I mean, I guess I could also add that I'm his apprentice, but that hardly means much when you don't know him. Don't worry, I'm not planning on torturing anyone in this universe, or even killing anyone who's not allied with Molly. I already promised your witch I would play nice."

"Play... _nice_."

"Well, sure. Giles, right? You're the brains of this operation? Yeah, well, it's _beyond_ obvious that none of you have the slightest idea how to deal with a truly dark threat. I doubt you can actually imagine what true darkness _looks_ like. I mean, you've been running scared from _that_ thing, and, okay, yes, mind mages can be ridiculously powerful if they know how to use it, and that thing clearly does, but it's _definitely_ not the sum total of all the so-called evil in the world. It _might_ be the most powerful sentient aspect of the Dark around here, but— Actually, no, _I_ might be the most powerful representative of the Dark around here. Huh. That's kind of ridiculous—" It wasn't, actually. She was one of the most powerful representatives of the Dark in Britain, too. She just...had trouble conceptualising herself as being quite as exceptional as she actually _was_. "—but okay... Anyway, we take offence to this little god claiming to speak on behalf of all the darkness in humanity, so we're staying, at least long enough to wreck its plan."

A smirk was twitching at the corners of Spike's mouth, but he managed to keep a mostly straight face saying, "So...you want to fight the First...because you think it's _not evil enough_."

"Well, that and it's clearly the only thing around here worth picking a fight with." Bella gave him a brilliant grin. "So, you said you might know somewhere we could stay where no one would try to kill us in our sleep?"


	6. Mira Makes a Friend

"I think I might love you, Spike."

"Say what, now, luv?"

The more human of the two demon girls who had stumbled into their universe only hours ago looked up from the bed she'd unceremoniously flopped onto, raising only her head and shoulders, and then only enough to catch his eye for a brief moment before letting herself flop back again. "You found me a proper bed, Spike. Soft furnishings are the way to a girl's heart, especially when she's been trapped in a post-apocalyptic hellscape full of monsters trying to kill her for God only knows how long. Safe, warm beds, covered in actual duvets, and— As I said, I think I might love you."

"Yeah, well, so far as I know, the people who live here are only out of town for a couple more weeks, but should do well enough for a bit, so long as you manage to avoid the neighbors."

"When Bella said you might know somewhere we could squat, I was expecting an abandoned factory or crypt or something. This is just— Thank you."

"Uh...no...problem?" Despite his general unease with everything to do with the demons — much greater now, after that little chat with the bloody First, and Shadow Girl flat claiming that she was a more terrible evil than even _it_ , as though she hadn't been unnerving enough to start with (he'd only met a few child vampires over the years, but even when he hadn't had a soul himself he'd thought soulless kids were creepy) — he wasn't terribly accustomed to his contributions actually being _appreciated_. Even if it was something as small as pointing out an empty house with a spare bedroom in the basement. (He'd been scoping the place out for himself before they'd shown up, but it would be easier to avoid notice if they weren't moving about a supposedly empty house on a level with windows in every room.)

The girl, Zee, chuckled. "Is my gratitude _really_ so surprising?"

"A _bit_ , yeah, actually. Wouldn't really expect thanks from Buffy and her friends, let alone..."

She rolled onto her side, propping her head up on one hand, the other tracing idle patterns on the duvet with a single finger. "Let alone from someone who escaped from a hell dimension only hours ago? Trust me, that was _hardly_ my kind of place. And my inclination toward the Dark hardly renders me incapable of feeling genuine gratitude for the effort you've gone to on my behalf. Quite gentlemanly, really. Let me guess... Mid-Eighteen Hundreds?" He wondered how she'd guessed _that_. "And if you're a Cockney, I'm a Scot." She gave him a soft, teasing smile, but when he didn't answer, she didn't press him. "You can sit, if you like. Plenty of room. What did they call you, when you were human?"

"Oh, no, I should go, really. Sun'll be up soon, you know." He ignored her request for his given name. No one called him William, anymore.

She pouted up at him. "You could stay. Unless...I suppose you need to hunt before sunrise?"

"I— _No_. I don't bleed humans anymore. I've...had a change of heart, you might say, about killing. Reformed."

A tiny, confused frown wrinkled her forehead. "But you're a predator. I know you're not exactly the same as the vampires I'm familiar with, but— How are you surviving, if you're not drinking human blood?"

"Pig's blood," he said, rather shortly. Disgusting stuff. Kept him alive well enough, but it was always cold, and never...satisfying.

"Oh." She stared at him for a long moment. "That wouldn't work for the vampires in my world. It's not just the physical blood they need. Not even _mostly_. It's the act of taking blood, taking life, symbolically, from a living person, that sustains them, maintains the magics binding their soul to their undead body. They don't have to actually kill their victims, I'm pretty sure — though I understand killing them, taking life _literally_ , is more...satisfying, in some way?"

"Well, we don't have to kill them either, it's just... The attack itself, that's harm enough, I can't bring myself to do it. Not when I'm myself at least. And butcher's blood does the job, even if it does taste like shite."

She made a noncommittal hum at that, still tracing idle patterns on the bedspread. "But you said you had a change of heart? Why?" Her wide eyes caught his own, her tone growing more sympathetic. "Did something happen to you? Or did you stop for Buffy?" She put just the slightest emphasis on the Slayer's name, almost teasing, almost longing, in that way girls had when imagining something to be far more romantic than reality.

"Ah, now, that's a story and a half, luv. But I really should go."

"You don't have to, if you'd rather tell me a story and a half." She gave him a coy little smile. "I'm told I'm a good listener, and I really _do_ want to know what happened with you two. I mean, how did you even get together in the first place? Can't've been easy, wooing a girl who'd take your head off sooner than your pants."

Genuine amusement tugged at his lips. "You're a nosey Parker, you know that?"

"Well, yes, I'm told that, too. Can't help it, it's in my nature."

"Yeah, well, I can't explain how it happened, I don't understand it myself, I just... I came to town to kill her, you know, years ago, now. Spent years fighting each other, hating each other. Sometimes helping each other, if there was a big bad big enough and bad enough that enemy of my enemy made sense. And then the Initiative put that _fucking_ chip in my head so I _couldn't_ hurt humans — at least, not without a screaming bloody migraine — suddenly found myself on the side of the angels 'cos their enemies were the only ones I could hit..." He trailed off, trying to decide how much he wanted to tell her, and how to say it. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell her anything at all, but it was just...

No one ever really treated him like a person. No one _listened_. And before he'd got his soul back, he might not've noticed, or might not've cared, but this wide-eyed girl, this stranger who didn't know the first thing about him or Buffy or anything at all, was just lying there talking like she'd... _listen_ , open and...not innocent, but...non-judgmental? and giving him the only real chance he'd had to get his problems off his chest since... _ever_ , probably. He couldn't even think... Certainly for the first time since he'd been reborn as a vampire. And he hadn't realised until he'd started talking how much he wanted to have it all out. Not just the last few years, and Buffy, and the First, but the hundred and fifty years before he'd come to Sunnydale, all the things he'd done. The blood he'd spilled and the horror he'd caused.

He wanted, he realised suddenly, to _confess_. (Supposed to be good for the soul, wasn't it?)

Before he could figure what and how, though, she offered another question. "Chip? I'm afraid I haven't the foggiest idea what the Initiative is, either."

"Super-secret government organisation that hunts demons and vampires and occasionally tries to play Frankenstein — with the predictable outcome, there. They captured me, stuck some fancy little bit of technology in my brain, set it to go off if I so much as harmed a hair on any poor, defenceless little human's head. Or not-so-defenceless, thing wasn't terribly discriminating like that. I went on a quest, a while back now, trying to find a way to get rid of it, thought I'd found a bloke who could do it, but when I finally fought through all his tests and trials — bloody demons, always making you prove you deserve whatever you're asking for — he just stuck me with this bloody _soul_. Didn't help. Not at all. Got back here and got snagged by the First, it got in my head, mixed in with the guilt and horror — you can't imagine the things I've done..."

The girl gave him a teasing smirk, trying to look more worldly than she was, he thought. "Oh, I don't know. I can imagine some fairly _awful_ things. I've _seen_ some pretty awful things... Done some myself, even..." She trailed off, looking away.

"That boy?" he asked, seizing on the change of topic. She'd done an awfully good job acting as though the First taking on his form hadn't bothered her, but everything about her at the moment suggested it did.

"He died in a flying accident, but I was the one who convinced him to try to learn the trick he was working on when it happened. So Molly wasn't wrong, his blood is on my hands, it was my _fault_."

Spike scoffed. He couldn't help it. "Not so bad, really, in the grand scheme of things. Not like the others..." The ones the First claimed Bella had tortured to death with transformation magicks, the ones she'd outright _admitted_ to, proudly, almost... "I suppose that'd be things you've seen?"

Those, unlike one poor boy's accidental death, _were_ as bad as the worst he had done, when he'd first been turned. Worse, maybe. More like what Angelus had done to Dru, meant to systematically break a person.

She nodded. "Tom and Bella... They like that sort of thing. The fact that I know and don't tell anyone is probably worse than what happened to Jack. I should, I know, but... I guess I just can't bring myself to betray her. And they're like family to me. A twisted little fucked up incestuous family, but still. They take care of me. And when they're not...doing things like that, they're brilliant and funny and just— It's easy to forget that that side of them exists... So, this _soul_ thing, that you got back," she said, pulling herself together and changing the subject abruptly back to him, melancholic guilt well-hidden again. "It makes you feel guilty about hurting people? Like a conscience? Sounds worse than the chip."

"It is, luv — believe me, it is. But yeah, the soul's your moral compass, the thing that makes you feel guilt about killing and torture, makes you want to help people. Save the world."

Her face shifted into a small, rather conflicted looking frown. "You don't need a conscience to not want the world to end, you know. Even those who serve the Dark, who revel in death and destruction... People are as Dark as they are Light, and if the world ends, if everybody dies, so too ends the Dark. Magic would go on, of course, but the meaning? Any semblance of consciousness? That would be gone. If the game _ends_ , everyone loses."

"That's a very..." That was kind of how he'd used to think of it, actually. When Angelus was threatening to destroy it all, and he'd come to help stop the sodding wanker. But now...now it was _more_ than that. All the lives that would be lost, all the beauty and sentiment gone, and the suffering that would ensue — the end of the world wouldn't be quick, it would be long and hard and bloody and terrible. He could hardly bear to think of it. He certainly couldn't just let it happen.

"Sociopathic, I think, is the word you're looking for — it's a sociopathic way of looking at the world. Which makes sense, Tom was the one who articulated it, and he intended it to give Bella a reason not to, oh, I don't know, invent some way to set the sky on fire or something, just because she could. Right and wrong don't have much inherent meaning to either of them."

"But they do to you?" he asked, almost certain that they did.

"Oh, well...that's complicated."

"Sun's come up, I've got all day," he said drily, making himself comfortable leaning against the nearest wall.

"I suppose we do, at that." She sighed, letting herself fall off her elbow, staring up at the ceiling again, rather than meet his eyes. "Someone messed with my head when I was a little kid, maybe six. My aunt. She was hoping that she could somehow wake up any potential I might have for doing mind magic, like her, but... She had no idea what she was doing, really. I'm older now than she was then. Suffice to say it didn't go well, but it took a while until anyone really noticed that I was growing increasingly... _odd_. The mind healers did more harm than good trying to fix me — treating the symptoms, not the problem. They gave me a framework for normal behavior and compelled me to follow it, kind of like an artificial conscience. Soul, I guess, in your terms. But it was so often at odds with my own inclinations, or the ones that Adara had given me, I guess, but they _seem_ like mine...kind of broke myself, trying to resist it."

"Rather do wrong because they tried to force you to do right?"

"It all made me very cynical about right and wrong, actually, and whether they really exist, outside of people agreeing that they ought to. But pretty much, yes. Tom helped me figure it all out, work around the whole mess so I don't have to do whatever the compulsions want me to do, but I still know what the 'right' thing is, in the background. We _do_ have to live with other people, so most of the time I do play by the rules of society, do what I know I should, even if I don't really _want_ to, or feel like I have to. Tom does the same. Bella... Well, Bella's kind of pants at pretending to be normal, but no one expects a Black to be sane, anyway."

"Okay, who's this Tom bloke? He's come up a few times, now..." And usually in contexts that were painting him out to be even worse than Shadow Girl.

"Oh! He's... Well, he's one of our professors, for one thing, and the head of our house at school, very respectable. But before that, he was Bella's tutor — master to her apprentice. She grew up basically worshipping him, and he's still practically the only person she listens to. Her father figure, since her real father's an abusive piece of shite. Her...lover, too, for lack of a better term. To me...I suppose he'd be a mentor, of sorts. He's a mind mage, like my aunt — has a natural ability to get into other people's minds and influence them — and incredibly talented. He could easily pull off everything we've seen from or heard about Molly so far, which is the biggest part of why we're not terribly impressed by it. And as Bella mentioned earlier, he tortures and kills people as a hobby."

She said this so matter-of-factly that Spike couldn't help but let out a burst of disbelieving laughter. "Are you having me on?"

She rolled over again to raise an eyebrow, surprised by his surprise. "Ah, no, I'm really not."

"So this bloke's a schoolteacher by day, serial killer by night?"

She smiled, almost laughing. "I suppose you could put it like that."

"And nobody _notices_? That's just..." Absurd. That was just bloody ridiculous. Sort of thing you'd expect to happen in _this_ town, maybe, but... "Is everyone in your world bloody mad?"

"Well, _no_. It's just, you know, sane people don't tend to become demon tourists over summer hols, and I suppose like calls to like when it comes to mental instability." She drifted into silence for a moment before offering, "My world does have a lot more magic than this one, so it's more dangerous, probably, and we have healing charms, so we can do a lot more damage to each other before we stray into the realms of permanent maiming. I've even met a couple of people who were brought back from the dead... Aaand, you look like I've just told you I'm holding something precious of yours hostage. What did I say?"

That was...kind of a weird way to describe his sudden stiffness, attempting not to react to her casual mention of resurrection. He made a deliberate effort to relax. "It's... Well, it's not nothing, really. Buffy died, about two years ago. Willow brought her back."

"And this is a touchy subject, for obvious reasons." She nodded. "Does bring us back to her, though. You were telling me about this chip in your head, and how you ended up falling in with the light?"

Spike groaned. "Yeah, well. That was about three years ago, now. Starting to think it might've scrambled my brain a mite, made me start... Well I _thought_ I was in love with her. Obsessed, more like. And then she died, saving her sister and all the rest of us, and I stuck around — couldn't tell you why—" That little smirk said she knew he was lying there, but he wasn't much for navel-gazing anymore, talking about his feelings. Out of practice. And even back in the day, he'd just written poetry, hadn't ever really _talked_ with anyone about anything important. "Fine, I made a promise that I'd look out for the Little Bit — Dawn, that is — and I felt responsible, couldn't bring myself to break it. Happy?"

"What? I didn't say anything." Didn't matter, she'd been thinking it. Her smirk broadened.

He scowled. "Yeah, well, then Willow brought her back — Buffy — and she was hating the world and herself — don't let anyone tell you she's not _just_ as fucked in the head as any of us — decided to take it out on me. Said she was using me. Didn't get it at the time. Said she couldn't keep doing it, I pressed the issue, I...hurt her." _Nearly raped her_. "And I left, looking for a way to just...make it _stop_. Thought if I could get rid of the chip, everything would be fine, I could go back to being the vampire I used to be, stop all the fucking feelings bullshit, and that's when he stuck me with this _fucking_ soul. Realised I didn't love her before, because _that_ , before, was _nothing_ compared to what I feel for her _now_. Chip started going on the fritz a couple of weeks ago, exactly how Buffy got the Initiative to agree to take it out is all kind of fuzzy — there's actually quite a bit that's kind of fuzzy, around then — so now that's gone, but... Vampires aren't meant to have souls, Zee. Souls aren't meant to be dragged through the kind of life a vampire lives."

"So you're trying not to be a vampire anymore."

Well, he wouldn't put it quite like _that_ , but... He shrugged. "Might be."

"And it's been three years since you've tasted human blood?" Sounded a mite incredulous, there.

"Well, _no_ , the First was making me attack people, a couple of months ago, even with the chip — dunno why that didn't stop me, knock me out, or something, maybe it was already failing. I... I didn't remember anything, at first, didn't know what I was doing — what it was making me do. But then... Then I started to. It was _horrible_. I was a monster. And the worst part is, there's a part of me that still wants that. Wants to go out and find some girl, rip her throat out, drink my fill. And I'm bloody terrified that the First is going to take me over again, and I'll wake up in some closet somewhere with blood on my hands and no idea how, or why..."

"Mmm..." She hummed noncommittally, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. "Well, didn't you say you don't have to kill your victims?"

"No, but... That's how it goes, more often than not. And even if it didn't, I'd still be grabbing people off the street, attacking them." _Scaring them, hurting them, using them,_ eating _them..._ " _Victim_ 's the key word, innit?"

The girl sighed. "Okay, correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't this Hellmouth thing attract all sorts of fun, twisted humans, as well as vampires and assorted demonic N.H.B.s? Are you really telling me you couldn't find someone kinky enough to volunteer? Or a few someones, I guess, depending on how much you need." He just stared at her, dumbfounded. "Oh, it never even _occurred_ to you, did it?" She giggled. "You're not a bad-looking bloke, though I have to say, you'd do better in leather than jumpers. Either way, I shouldn't think it would be difficult for you to find a few impressionable young things who'd let you taste them for a lark. Fuck, _I'll_ let you, if you like."

"You— _What_?"

"Sure." She stretched out the arm that had been tracing idle shapes on the bed between them. He didn't quite remember sitting down. Funny, that. "Can't say I'm really into pain, but it doesn't seem right to make you suffer, when it would cost me so little to help."

He snorted. "So you wouldn't open a vein to close a portal to hell and save all our arses, but you'd do it to let me have a bloody _snack_?"

"Mmm, _literally_. I don't really mind bleeding, it's more... I _really_ don't like cutting myself. I'd've closed the gate if Bella would have done the slicing, but a sacrifice isn't really a sacrifice if you get someone else to do the hard part for you. Besides, I happen to have a unique sympathy for innocent creatures forced to act against their natures." She gave him a one-shouldered shrug, still lying there casually, as though offering to _let_ a vampire attack her was perfectly normal and hardly the least bit dangerous.

"Innocent?"

"Comparatively speaking." She gave him a positively _naughty_ smirk.

"Where _is_ Shadow Girl, anyway?" he asked. She'd run off to explore while they were on their way here, said she'd catch up — he'd kind of assumed she had some way to find them, but...

"...Around? I'm sure she's fine, she always is. She'll catch up."

That wasn't why he had been asking, though. "We should wait until she comes back," he said, thoroughly unable to bring himself to just _leave_ (daylight notwithstanding) even though this was just _entirely_ mad — the thought of actually sating himself for once, and without the looming guilt, bringing up memories he'd rather not think about, was just too...tempting. _Fuck_ , it was tempting.

The girl grinned at him, as though she knew _exactly_ what he was thinking. "It's fine. I trust you to stop before you kill me. After all, if you _didn't_ , you'd feel _bad_ about it. And while I might not be able to just drop out of this plane of reality to break your hold like Bella would, I'm not _entirely_ helpless, you know." She sat up, facing him over crossed legs, fixing him with a serious stare, softened only slightly by a confident smirk. "Look, you've been fighting alongside humans for _how_ long, now? Humans who get injured and bleed all over the place fairly regularly? You manage to hold yourself back from ripping _their_ throats out."

"It's easier to _not start_ than it is to _stop_. Besides, I can't shake the feeling Shadow Girl's going to jump out of nowhere and stake me the second I lay a finger on you, let alone a fang."

"Oh, wouldn't _that_ be hypocritical of her — _she's_ the one who likes to tie people up and bleed them. Next time you see Molly, ask it to show you one of her exsanguinations. And she knows me, so she's hardly likely to blame _you_."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I told you, it's not right, forcing you to deny yourself when there are perfectly ethical ways of feeding you."

"No, you're too...insistent. What's your game?"

She sighed. "You really want to know?"

" _Yes_. What are you trying to— It's like you _want_ me to bite you!"

"What I _want_ is for you to get your fix, so it's one less thing for dear Molly to hold over you. Gotta be more difficult to force a well-fed vampire to attack innocent people than it is one who's been starving himself for months, if not _years_. And it's got to be easier to resist _it_ when you're not also trying to resist turning on the nearest human. I mean, I'm kind of making some assumptions, here, but in my world..." She sighed again. "They talk about it like an addiction. Vampires, in my world. Like being on viv, or... I don't know what the muggle equivalent would be, actually. They _need_ it, like I need sex and Bella needs to fight, but _more_. It's _life_. It's the only thing worth living for. Even when they're well-fed, the _hunger_ is always there, at the back of their minds. Go too long without feeding and that need becomes overwhelming — they become little more than feral animals in pursuit of anything to satisfy it, at any cost. Desperate. Maggie — friend of mine, vampire — compared it to a human trying to hold their breath until they died — you'd just end up passing out and breathing anyway. And granted, I don't think a vampire in my world would be able to fast for a year without going mad from the hunger, and it's not really about the blood, so maybe your pigs' blood is fine, and I'm just being paranoid, but I'm guessing it's not really _enough_. And if _I_ were trying to take your little group apart, well... I wouldn't pass up an easy lever like that."

"It's not— It's not _that_ bad." She wasn't wrong, though. Pigs' blood wasn't satisfying. It wasn't what he was craving, and he knew it, it was just... His guilt and disgust and self-hatred were enough to overwhelm the need, that residual hunger that lingered no matter how much pigs' blood he forced down his throat...for now. He tried not to think about it.

She smiled at him — a soft, genuine, sympathetic smile. When was the last time anyone had looked at him with that much kindness? "There's no shame in it, you know. It's part of what you _are_. Even if you insist on denying the parts of you that want to hurt and kill and tear the world apart, you can't deny that you need blood to live. And pigs' blood isn't enough, is it?"

" _No_." He barely managed to get the word out, didn't manage to meet her eyes at all as he said it. There might not be _shame_ in it, but it still felt like failing, admitting it.

"It _is_ a failure," he heard Buffy's voice say, stern and disappointed, frowning at him from the corner by the door, disgusted. "You're failing _me_. I trusted you to be a good man, I gave you a chance, and you're— You're going to give in, bite this...this _little girl_. She's Dawn's age, you know. A _child_. She doesn't know what she's _talking_ about—"

"It's here, isn't it?" the girl said — it wasn't a question, really. She shifted around to kneel at his back, leaning against him, arms draped casually over his shoulders, skin hot, even through the fabric between them, so close he could feel her heartbeat in his chest. "What's it telling you? That you shouldn't do it? Says to me that you should, don't you think?"

He kind of did, actually.

"Don't listen to her, Spike," Not-Buffy snapped at him. "Who is she? You're going to believe some demon girl you just met over _me_?"

"You're not _her_. You're not."

"Molly, stop looking like Buffy, you're confusing the poor lad."

"You can see her?"

"No. I don't need to. Man like you? There's only one _her_. And the old bitch over there isn't _her_. Just wearing her face, trying to convince you not to do this, because it _knows_ I'm right, this will weaken its hold on you—"

"She's a liar, Spike." The First shifted forms, going back to the boy, the one Zee had said she'd killed, even if it _had_ been an accident. "She killed me. She did it on purpose! She lied to you about that — about _everything_. She's the evil one — lying, manipulative— She's trying to get her hooks into you, and you're just _letting_ her, this is what happens! She gets in your head and convinces you to do things you shouldn't, and then you _die_!"

As though the First bloody Evil had _any_ room to talk about getting into a man's head. "Fuck off."

It shifted back to Buffy, sauntered toward him. Zee's heart beat faster as he tensed in her arms. She leaned her cheek against his head, deliberately casual. "You heard the man, Molly. He doesn't want to talk to you."

"That little whore is going to ruin you, Spike. She's trying to steal you from me, and I won't let her have you. You're _mine_."

"No. _No_. You're not her. You're not. I'm not _yours_."

"Oh, you _are_." It shifted, becoming a young boy with his throat torn out. "Remember this one?" Again, an old woman, not even bitten, just killed, for the sheer fun of it. "Or this one?" A girl, fifteen? younger? bought and fucked and killed before she got her pay. "What about me? You still owe me two bob, mister!" Dru. "You _are_ mine, naughty boy. Mine, mine, _mine_ , and _no one else's_."

"Just do it," Zee said, sounding rather exasperated. She brought her left wrist up to his mouth, still wrapped around him, her heartbeat so loud, so— He could _smell it_ , the soft, warm, so very _alive_ scent of her skin, surrounding him, heat pulsing through her, demanding...demanding _this_.

She gasped as he struck — teeth punching through skin and muscle, puncturing veins, hot blood sweet in his mouth — tensing, but didn't pull away. Quite the contrary, in fact — after a moment she relaxed into him, the fingers of her free hand threading through his hair, carding through it as his world narrowed to scent and taste and _need_. No First. No Buffy. No past to feel guilty about, or future to worry over. Nothing but _right now_ , the taste of blood on his tongue and fingers in his hair, hot breath in his ear and the pounding of a human heart, pressed against his own unmoving chest.


	7. Since when do you pay for it?

_This one seems too short to be an entire chapter, so double-post today._

* * *

Mira woke when Bella arrived in their temporary accommodations, pressing cold fingers to her neck, apparently searching for a pulse. She'd fallen asleep after the feeding, the vampire still curled up beside her, using her as a pillow.

"I'm fine, Bella."

Bella grinned. "Well, in that case, since when do you pay for it?"

"Ha bloody ha. It was nothing like that, just...making friends." _Enthralling_ , really, but what was the difference?

"Uh _huh_. Well, I managed to find a market, got us some food, water. You need help getting up?"

"What time is it?"

She shrugged. "Mid-morning? I'm going back to the Slayer's house."

Mira groaned — she couldn't have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. " _No_ , I'm going back to sleep. Just...hand me a bottle of water, first? Cheers. Go away."

Her entire left arm felt stiff, made getting the cap off the thing a bit difficult, but it was hardly debilitating. Not as bad as she'd expected, even. It hadn't been difficult to push him into sleep when she started to feel lightheaded — he'd long since taken enough to allow her spell to take effect, influence his mind and body a bit more _directly_ than the First. The two little puncture wounds on the soft side of her arm were, she thought, a small price to pay.

Bella giggled. "Fine. I would, however, like to point out that you complained pretty much constantly about the Fiends trying to eat you for the _entire_ time we were in that universe. Now you're just offering yourself up to any blood-sucker you happen to run into? Is it because this one's prettier?"

Well, that didn't _hurt_. "I'll explain later. When I'm conscious. Which is not now."

"I'll check in in a few hours, then," she announced, disappearing before the last word dropped from her lips. Must be excited about familiarising herself with the available resources. Or possibly about picking a fight with the fucking Slayer (ridiculous name).

...Maybe she should've reminded her about the healing charms?

 _Oh, well, too late now_ , she thought, eyes drifting closed again. _If they actually manage to hurt each other, it's on their own fucking heads, anyway._


	8. Exhibition Match

Buffy led the way into her house (feeling less and less like _hers_ and more like a sorority house every day), still filling Robin in on the whole First thing and the Potential Slayers. (She couldn't really blame him for refusing to stick around last night — he _was_ kind of getting thrown into the deep end, here — but it would have been convenient if he had.) It took her a couple of seconds to register that Andrew was doing the same with the demon girl Buffy hadn't actually had a chance to talk to yet.

"Yeah, well, we thought the Council could protect them, but unfortunately no one was protecting the Council. All of the Watchers were killed, and— What are you doing here? And where's the other one, your friend?"

The demon girl looked up — they were sitting on the floor, with a large white board Andrew must have gotten from somewhere (she didn't want to know _why_ ) — and smirked. "What does it look like I'm doing? Andy here is briefing me on the...situation, let's call it. And I assume Zee's still passed out with Spike." _With_ Spike _? That little_ slut _!_ When he'd said he'd show the demon girls somewhere they could crash, she hadn't thought he was going to start _shacking up_ with one! He'd only _met_ her, what, two hours before they'd left to find somewhere to sleep? (Read: somewhere to _fuck_...) "Losing a significant amount of blood does tend to make her sleepy."

"Wait, _what_?" She couldn't _possibly_ be implying that Spike had bitten the (supposedly) human girl. "Spike didn't..."

Robin scoffed under his breath. When Buffy glared at him, he snapped, "He's a vampire, Buffy! A killer! Why wouldn't he—"

"He has a _soul!"_ They'd been _over_ this! "He wouldn't just go biting some teenage girl!"

"Didn't sound so sure of that a second ago."

Well, maybe she hadn't but...

"Oh, no, he definitely did. Why are you acting like this is a big deal, exactly?"

"He's dead. He is _so_ dead!" He'd _promised_ her, when he'd woken up after the operation, with the chip gone. He'd _sworn on his life_ that he was _never_ going to attack another human again. He'd rather be chained up in her basement than bite someone, or so she'd thought. _How could he lie to me?_

"Well, yes, that is typically a defining feature of vampires? But what does that have to do with...anything? It's not like he _killed_ her, and it's not his fault he needs blood to live. Or, well, maybe it is, I don't really know how vampires work in this universe. But it's definitely not his fault that Zee decided to befriend him. I kind of doubt he had much more choice in the matter than I did."

"Decided to... _befriend_ him...? Does not compute. Seriously, _what_?"

"I have no idea how or why Zee chooses people to collect, but she is _very_ good at it. I _assume_ she figured letting a vampire feed on her was more intimate than having sex with him, but that's just a guess."

"She _let_ him...?" Robin repeated, caught somewhere between stunned and horrified.

Buffy understood _completely_. "What he said."

The demon girl shrugged. "My understanding is that this soul thing makes Spike squishier and more like normal humans than the average vampire, so...yeah? I mean, she could probably just talk at him until he was convinced she was the only person in the entire world who really _understands_ him, she's absurdly good at that, but opening a vein for him makes the point a little more directly. I mean, it does kind of always come back to the _hunger_ with vampires, right? Even _I_ know that. And since Spike is all broken and emotional, that whole _being understood_ thing probably matters to him. And then there's the whole _conflating physical and emotional intimacy_ thing, kind of a major short-cut when it comes to building emotional dependency in normal people. Or, you know, so I'm told." She shrugged again. "Seduction's not really my game, so I'm probably missing a few factors. But yeah, she definitely let him. Pretty sure they wouldn't be all snuggled up together if it wasn't consensual."

Buffy had... _no idea_ what to say to that. It would _probably_ be a bad idea to admit that she was actually more worried about Spike now than she was about the human teenager he'd apparently bitten. But she knew what she was doing after she finished showing Robin around, now. That pale, angsty bastard had some explaining to do...

Andrew was the one to break the long, awkward silence that followed the demon's...explanation. "I was making a big board of Sunnydale with all of the Firstly activity on it, but it probably doesn't have a headquarters if it doesn't have a body, so Shadow Girl erased it." He pouted at the demon, who just shrugged.

"Taking notes was more important. You ramble," she said, as though they hadn't just changed the subject from something very serious and disturbing to...Andrew's stupid whiteboard.

Robin seemed just as thrown by the sudden change of topic as Buffy was. "Er...who is...?"

Right, she should introduce him. "Robin Wood, this is...Andrew. He's our— Actually, he's kind of our hostage." Seeing the look on his face, she quickly explained, "He was evil, people got killed."

"See! Buffy says I was evil, so _there_!"

"And the Slayer _would_ be the final authority on such things," the demon said, so seriously Buffy was almost certain she was being sarcastic. (It was hard to tell with British people sometimes.)

"Robin, this is...Bella, wasn't it?" Of course, the two of them had already met, but Buffy was pretty sure they hadn't been introduced.

She nodded. "Black. Bellatrix." What kind of name was _Bellatrix_? "Call me whatever you like, you might have noticed I don't give much of a fuck about formalities. Spike's been calling me Shadow Girl, which is kind of silly, because I don't even do that much shadow magic, but whatever. Wood. I take it you're joining the party as well?"

"Robin's sort of a...freelancer," Buffy explained. "Kills vampires, demons, all sorts of things that go bump in the night."

"I thought he was a secondary school headmaster."

"That, too," Robin said. "And you're...joining the potential Slayers?"

Bellatrix snorted. "I haven't met them yet, but I'm guessing the answer is _no_. I might have vexed your little godling last night, just a tad, so I expect I have my work cut out for me, and the girls sound a bit useless. Probably just get themselves killed if they tried to help."

"You might be surprised," Buffy snapped, even though there was a part of her that agreed — girls were going to die, no matter what she tried to do to keep them safe. "They're not just _girls_ , they're _Potentials_. Don't be so quick to dismiss them. They might not have my gifts, but they have _instincts_. They were born to fight monsters like these, and they've been training."

"Mmm, yeah, Andrew mentioned that. Alright, then." She popped up to her feet. "Let's go."

" _Go_?"

"Well, you just said I shouldn't be so quick to dismiss them, so let's go have a look at them."

"I'd like to meet the troops, too," Robin agreed, before Buffy could say something about the unspoken _and then I'll dismiss them_ she could hear at the end of the demon's suggestion.

She sighed. "Come on, then."

She led them through the house to the backyard, where Kennedy was leading the rest of them in a series of drills. She was the most experienced of them, and one of the oldest, the obvious person for the job, but Buffy couldn't say she was entirely comfortable putting her in a position of power. She seemed to be having just a _little_ bit too much fun with the whole drill instructor thing. Yes, they needed discipline if they were going to get good enough to protect themselves, but...

"What the hell do you call _that_ , Potential? Try that in the field, you are _dead_. Drop and give me twenty!"

"Twenty _what_?"

"Push-ups, maggot!" she shouted in the girl's face and watched long enough to make sure she started them before turning to the newcomers with a giddy grin. "I love this job! Did you see that? I called that girl _maggot_!" Yeah, Buffy had seen it. She didn't even disagree that the recruits _should_ be called out and embarrassed in front of the group — it would help motivate them to practice harder — but did Kennedy have to be so _pleased_ with herself? (It reminded her of Kelly, the captain of her cheerleading squad back when she'd still had a life outside of killing things. They hadn't gotten along.) "Hi! Who the hell are you?"

"They're...allies," Buffy admitted. Reluctantly.

She couldn't really deny that they were all on the same side, much as she might like to. She'd spent most of the night — well, the last few hours before she'd had to get ready for work, and the better part of the morning — considering whether she could really turn away the demons' help. If this kid really _had_ spent who knew how long killing Turok-Han, advice on _how_ alone could be... Well, put it this way: all Giles's books and all Anya's contacts hadn't managed to tell them _anything_ about the uber-vamps in the weeks since the first one showed up — nothing more than legends and nothing at _all_ about how to kill them.

She'd _mostly_ spent that time justifying not killing the shadow creature, given the crimes she'd admitted to almost proudly, with _no_ indication of guilt whatsoever. Her friend _had_ said she could die like a human, and there weren't a hell of a lot of things that could survive being beheaded anyway, even if that was a lie.

But even though the crazy little bitch was an unapologetic torturer and murderer, she hadn't killed anyone who didn't deserve it _here_ , and if it came down to it... Spike had killed innocent people. So had Anya. Willow had almost destroyed the entire _world_. And granted, none of them had been in their right minds, at the respective times, but...

War was about making hard decisions, wasn't it? And strange bedfellows and whatnot? (Though she was _pretty sure_ that didn't mean they actually had to sleep with them, _Spike_...)

Kennedy grinned. "So, what do you think? My girls ready to kick some ass, or what?"

"Looking strong..." Robin offered, though there was something in his tone that suggested he had some reservations, there.

Bellatrix didn't even pretend not to have reservations of her own. "Are you kidding? That was a joke, right?" Buffy shook her head. " _No_. If you set these girls against anything more deadly than...I don't know, _Andrew_ —" ("Hey!") "—they're not going to kick arse, they're going to die."

" _Excuse_ me? Who do you think you are, barging in here and—"

"Out of those fifteen girls, only four have any formal training whatsoever. Eight — including only three of the four — have a chance of actually becoming half-decent fighters eventually, assuming you don't get them killed first. The rest of these girls would be better off running in circles than learning a _punch block combo_. _You_ obviously have training and the will to use it, but you've never taught before, and certainly not under a literal deadline. If you _had_ , you wouldn't be doing striking drills, you'd have them practising how to _move_ , disengage — maybe the more talented ones could do a bit of sparring. And I think I'm Bellatrix Black. Which I suppose means less here than it does at home, but." She shrugged. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Kennedy threw a look at Buffy, as though to say, _are you going to let her talk to me like that_. Buffy gave her a tiny shrug. If Kennedy wanted to be a leader, she was going to have to _lead_ , not turn to her whenever anyone challenged her. The Potential glared at her before addressing the demon. "They're _Potentials_ , they were _born_ to fight these monsters, and they _all_ have a chance of becoming fighters—"

"How many of you girls came here for protection?" the demon asked, speaking over Kennedy and raising her voice enough to carry to the Potentials, all of whom were now watching the confrontation between their drill sergeant and this unknown kid with a certain degree of fascination.

The one who had just been ordered to do pushups — Claire? no, Chloe, that was it — was the first to raise her hand, waving it slightly and giving Kennedy a very pointed glare. The rest of them looked around hesitantly at Buffy and each other before raising their own hands, with various degrees of shame.

"And how many of you think you'd stand a chance against a Turok-Han, or even one of those eyeless bastards?" Every one of them put their hands down. The demon turned back to Kennedy, giving her a very flat look. "Your so-called army is a bunch of scared, untrained little girls, and the things trying to kill them are at best fully grown men with knives, and at worst ridiculously strong, ridiculously fast monsters with teeth and claws and occasionally actual weapons as well. Also, they regenerate _stupidly_ quickly and tend to ignore pain, if they feel it at all. Trying to punch anything trying to kill them might break a few of their fingers, but it won't save their lives."

"What are you— Are you _trying_ to ruin their morale?! I didn't say you could _stop_ , Potentials! Back in your lines! Ignore the kid, she's an idiot, has no idea what she's talking about—"

"I'm absolutely certain I have more experience than _you_ , bitch." And then she backhanded the Potential across the face, so quickly and with so little forewarning in her stance that Kennedy didn't have time to realize what was happening, let alone try to block it. Hell, Buffy wasn't sure _she_ would have been able to block it (though she probably would have been able to _duck_ ). "First lesson," she said calmly, leaning away from Kennedy's retaliatory strike _just_ enough to be out of reach, a cool smirk on her face. "If your enemies can't touch you, they can't hurt you."

"Oh, you wanna see what kind of experience I've got?" Kennedy asked, stepping closer to the shadow demon.

She didn't back down, though she _did_ give Kennedy a chance to do so. For some reason, Buffy found that surprising. Maybe she just knew Kennedy wouldn't swallow her pride and take the out. "You really want your students to see you get your arse handed to you?"

Her hands balled into fists, everything in her posture screaming that she _wanted_ to just throw a punch at the kid. "Scared, pipsqueak? I think you're talking out of your ass! How do we know you're even on our side, and not just coming in here to fuck with our heads?"

The demon grinned. "Guess you don't. And if you want me to prove I know what I'm talking about, I'll give them a demonstration with the Slayer, not _you_ ," she said brightly, turning to Buffy.

Buffy startled at that. "Wait, what? Why are you dragging _me_ into this?" _She_ had things she needed to do, like tracking down Spike and getting to the bottom of this _biting teenage girls_ business!

"Because you're stronger and faster than a normal human. I'm not. I mean, I'm a little tougher, maybe, but Tom flat refused to start fucking around with runic augmentation until I stopped growing, so while I _am_ faster than the average person, and stronger than I look, that's just training, not magic. I figure me fighting you is closer to what these girls would be up against fighting a Fiend than if I were to beat the shite out of your wannabe Auror Academy Instructor, there. If I have to do an exhibition, it should at least be a teachable moment, yeah? And I hear you heal fast. Not gonna lie, I don't really do play-fights all that often. Wouldn't want to break the only other trained fighter you've got." Well, she couldn't really argue with any of that. The demon grinned. "Besides, I owe you for that shovel."

And Buffy still hadn't really seen the kid fight. She probably _should_ try to get her measure. It'd make it easier to decide whether to trust her claims about fighting the Turok-Han.

It'd make it easier to start planning how to get rid of her, if she took it into her head to stay after they'd finished dealing with the First...

Which she would be helping with, Buffy decided abruptly, because she had just thought about _after they'd finished dealing with the First_ in a way that wasn't totally castles-in-the-sky wishful thinking — something she hadn't really done since...ever, really. Even when she was bolstering the girls' morale with speeches about bringing down the goddamn apocalypse on _it_ , instead of letting it have its way with them, it wasn't like she had any real idea how they were supposed to do that. Like the kid had just said, you can't hurt an enemy you can't touch.

Not that she really knew how they were going to hurt it _now_ , but just having someone around who considered the thing a trivial threat — who thought that messing up its plans was an interesting way to spend a couple of weeks, while casually wandering around different dimensions like she was backpacking through Europe — made it seem a lot more doable.

"Alright. Girls, make some room."

"Are you sure you want to..." Robin said quietly.

Kind of sweet, being concerned about her. "It's just a sparring match. I'll be fine."

It wasn't even a sparring match against someone strong enough to actually _hurt_ her. A punch from a vamp would knock most people out, if not worse. Assuming she was being honest about her strength and speed, Buffy went ten rounds with guys _way_ more dangerous than this kid literally every night. If anything, _she'd_ have to be careful not to break the _demon_. (Killing things like her _was_ kind of the Slayer's entire job description.) She shrugged off her jacket and kicked off the heels she'd worn to work, leaving herself in business-casual slacks and a cute, cream-colored, ruffle-collared blouse that she _really_ hoped didn't get blood on it.

The kid did the same with the old flip-flops Dawn had found for her — she had been wearing boots when they'd escaped from hell, but presumably they'd gone the same way as the rags she'd been wearing at the time. Looking at her, just standing there waiting, barefoot in her borrowed, oversized shirt (now knotted at her waist to keep it out of the way), five feet tall and maybe eighty-five pounds ( _maybe_ ), an overconfident smirk on her delicate, childlike face, Buffy was a thousand percent positive that she'd never faced a less intimidating-looking opponent. And that was including _Giles_ back when he'd first started teaching her, before she knew that he was secretly occasionally a total badass.

"Personal choice for weapons," the demon said, pulling out of nowhere a pair of knives — a wicked silver one about as long as her forearm, and one that looked like it had to be made out of some kind of bone, just a little shorter. "And I don't want to be here all day, so I'm thinking we go to third blood."

Buffy tried to stifle an amused snort.

The kid raised an eyebrow at her. "Lesson two is _don't underestimate your opponent_ , Blondie _._ I didn't expect _you_ to need reminding of that. You don't look terribly impressive yourself, you know."

Good point. "Hey, kid, toss me that staff," she ordered one of the Potentials, pointing at a bo staff someone had left leaning against the fence. It wasn't the best weapon for trying to make her enemies _bleed_ , but it was the weapon she was best with (other than a stake), and would help her keep the kid at range. She had a feeling that the demon wouldn't have asked for this fight if she didn't think she could win it, so avoiding close quarters was probably a good idea. And besides, third blood didn't mean much when Buffy was pretty sure she could knock the girl out with one solid hit.

The demon smiled. "Right, then, what are you waiting for?"

They circled around each other for a few seconds before Buffy directed a quick overhand strike at the girl's head. She blocked it, or tried to, crossed knives cutting deeply into the wood, but she couldn't match Buffy's strength, and so only managed to slow the strike. It was still enough for her to slip past it, inside Buffy's guard, making a swipe at her ribs.

She jumped out of reach, slightly surprised. _Not faster than a human my_ butt, she thought, even as she blocked an incoming slash with the staff on her right, knocking aside a jab at her stomach with her left arm. That one was a feint, though — a hot line scored across the back of her arm as the demon girl retreated told her she was losing, and they'd only been at it for about three seconds.

Well, they said the best defense was a good offense. She advanced on the kid, her staff becoming little more than a pale blur as she spun it, pushing the kid across the yard. The demon avoided every strike, ducking and weaving and even jumping to avoid the blow Buffy aimed at her knees, giggling like mad.

"Don't hold back, now, Slayer. Children, take note. You're dealing with enemies who are stronger and, in the case of the Turok-Han, faster than you. If you want to beat them — which in your case means escaping with your lives — you need to be _cleverer_ than them."

She dove past Buffy even as she aimed a lateral strike at her head, the momentum and force she'd put behind the strike leaving her off-balance, and too committed to change directions mid-strike. She spun on her heel, bringing the staff down to guard her side as she did so, expecting the girl to follow up with a jab or an upward slice at her unprotected back. She _didn't_ expect her to grab the end of her staff as she brought it down, not trying to _stop_ the motion, but _reinforcing it_ , surging to her feet and wrenching the wooden pole out of one of Buffy's hands.

If she hadn't been as strong as she was, that little maneuver might have successfully disarmed her. Her left wrist was _definitely_ going to be aching tonight, and it did leave her in an awkward position, as far as the staff went. On the other hand, it also left her with a free hand, and a demon within arm's reach. She punched the kid right in the mouth, holding back enough that she wouldn't break her neck or anything — but when the girl, who managed to roll with the punch, popped back to her feet, grinning maniacally, there was blood on her teeth.

"One-one," Buffy said.

"Two-one, actually — my lead." The demon girl nodded at Buffy's left leg. She hadn't even felt the cut in the heat of the moment, but there was a growing red spot on her nice, gold-pinstriped slacks, and a hole that she _definitely_ wasn't going to be able to patch. _Damn it!_ "You might want to stop holding back," she said smugly — as though she _wanted_ Buffy to have just knocked her head off! "Your enemies are stronger than you, and faster, but they're _predictable_. Doing the unexpected can save your life, and sometimes you'll have to take a hit or two to reach your objective. Just make sure it's a hit you're willing to take, and that the objective is worth it."

"Oh, you want me to stop holding back, you little brat?" No more Ms. Nice Guy, then. Buffy went on the offensive again, aiming a flurry of whirling strikes at her arms and knees, ending with another downward strike at the demon's head, which she _predictably_ blocked exactly the same as she had the first time. This time, though, Buffy yanked the staff back toward herself, the knives stuck into it pulling the girl off balance, sending her sprawling, and one of the knives spinning off, lost in the grass behind Buffy as she whipped the staff around again, an overhead strike aimed directly at the demon's head. She rolled aside even as she fell, the staff biting into the ground just inches from her left ear.

Buffy pulled back, slightly horrified with herself. That really could have killed the girl. She couldn't let herself lose her temper like that, not in a fight like _this_ , not in _practice_.

The girl flipped to her feet, spinning into a crouch with her single remaining knife in a guarded stance. For a moment, they circled each other again, the demon apparently delighted by her near brush with death. "Don't get cold feet on me now, Slayer."

"Do you _want_ me to kill you? Because I almost just did!"

The demon snorted. "You missed by like five centimetres. And if you were _actually_ about to kill me, I'd definitely break the rules of this little play fight before I'd let you."

"There are _rules_?"

"Oh, sure. I mean, I _could_ have hamstrung you a minute ago, or broken your knee. Probably would've saved me the punch in the face, too, but you don't have healing charms here, so I'm trying not to hurt you too badly. Plus, I haven't pulled any tricks on you that a normal human couldn't manage. No shadow-walking or summoning my knife back, no making myself invisible or intangible, no— Hey! What's that?" she said, suddenly distracted, pointing at something over Buffy's shoulder.

About half a second after she looked away from the girl, even before she managed to turn all the way around, she realized it was a trick — the oldest one in the goddamn book, _stupid_ , stupid _Buffy!_ — but that still gave the demon girl enough time to close the distance between them. She was already halfway through her strike when Buffy's staff struck her wrist, the knife falling from her hand.

Rather than fall back, the kid spun closer to Buffy, elbowing her in the stomach before she managed to shove her far enough away to whack her across the ribs with the staff. She doubled over it before flying backwards, hitting the ground with a sick _thump_ , despite her attempt to roll through it. Her momentum carried her into a backward somersault. Potentials scrambled to get out of the way. She fell limp, face down on the ground. For a brief moment, Buffy was sure she was unconscious, but then the little demon girl flopped onto her back, fingers exploring her ribs, some of which _had_ to be broken. " _Ow_. Lesson...four? Are we on four, now? Whatever. If by some miracle you girls manage to get your enemies in a position as vulnerable as this, _follow up on it_ , don't just stand there like an idiot waiting for them to get back up."

Whereupon she _did_ get up, wincing, but surprisingly mobile for someone who'd just been knocked several yards through the air by what amounted to a giant baseball bat to the ribs. "Are you kidding me? You don't even have a knife anymore! And—"

The demon just smirked at her. "Internal bleeding doesn't count, and even if it did, we'd only be two-two."

"And you're going to try to what? Wrestle me? I have four inches and twenty pounds on you!" Not to mention Slayer strength and zero cracked ribs. What the _hell_?

"Yeah, well, the guy who usually kicks the shite out of me has seven inches and seventy pounds on me, and I'm pretty sure you're not going to try to rape me after, so." _What?!_ "Game's still on, Slayer." She grinned, sauntering back across the yard, closing the distance between them awfully smoothly. If her ribs _were_ hurting her, she was doing an _awfully_ good job of hiding it.

"Are you completely _insane_?"

"Are you saying it took you nearly eighteen hours to notice?"

She darted in, closing the distance between them in a matter of steps. Buffy tried to simply block whatever attack she was planning on making, but instead of throwing a punch or a kick at her, she grabbed Buffy's staff and _jumped_ , using it as leverage to flip herself onto Buffy's back, the only sign of her injuries a pained gasp. Before Buffy could whip the staff around behind herself and flip her _off_ , she tangled one hand in Buffy's loose hair. When she doubled over, trying to displace the girl, she _went_ , but she took that handful of hair with her, using it to yank Buffy's nose down into her waiting knee, too quickly for her to realize what she was doing. She didn't actually manage to _break_ Buffy's nose, but she was pretty sure it _was_ bleeding.

The demon girl apparently thought so too, as she released Buffy's hair and let herself collapse, flat on her back. "Three. I win. Also, _ow_."

Buffy attempted to straighten her hair, wiping the blood from her face. "That was a dirty trick," she said, trying not to sound as annoyed as she was. By conventional measures of _being able to stand_ , she was pretty sure _she_ had won, even if she technically hadn't.

"Are you paying attention, children?" the demon asked, still flat on her back, not even looking at them. "Dirty tricks can save your life. Simple diversions are cliché because they _work_. Nine times out of ten you can distract an enemy with _what's that over there?_ though I recommend you _run_ if you manage to get even a half-second head start. And since you're weaker than your opponents, if you have to get in close, use your enemy's strength and speed against them. I couldn't have pulled off that last move if Buffy hadn't helped."

"Oh, my! What— Buffy! What happened here? I was only gone for fifteen minutes!" Willow pushed through the crowd of Potentials who had migrated toward the house with an armload of weaponry.

Kennedy answered before Buffy could decide exactly how to explain what had just happened in a way that didn't sound like she'd just beaten the crap out of a little kid. "New girl was trying to make some kind of point. Got her ass kicked for her trouble."

"Buffy?" Willow repeated, even as the demon girl dragged herself to her feet.

"Hey! Four broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder do _not_ mean that I didn't win that fight!" _Dislocated...?_ Oh. Now that she pointed it out, the girl was holding her left arm, the one she had used to introduce Buffy's nose to her knee, rather stiffly. "If you still want to go, we can go, but I'm warning you now, I am _not_ in the mood to play kiddie games anymore." She vanished into thin air, reappearing almost instantly at Kennedy's back with her silver knife in her good hand, pressed to the Potential's throat. Wha— How did she _do_ that? Kennedy swallowed hard, but said nothing. "Yeah, that's what I thought, princess," the injured girl scoffed, letting Kennedy go and shoving her away. "I've been doing this — fighting people who are bigger and stronger than me — for _thirteen years_. If I tell you your priorities are wrong, you're wrong."

She turned to face Buffy, ignoring the girls at her back. "Molly knows where you live. It's manifested here. From what Spike said about his kidnapping, its people have actually _been_ here. We ran into them two blocks from here last night. It's either toying with you, or waiting until you finish gathering all of the girls who managed to escape its initial attempts to kill them so it can destroy all of you at once. Maybe both. You have a time limit, even if you don't know what it is." Buffy exchanged a look with Willow, who seemed almost as unnerved by that calm statement as she was. "You can't spend _years_ teaching these kids the basics. That _is_ what you were doing, right?" she asked Kennedy. "Teaching them the way you were taught?" Kennedy nodded, glaring at the smaller girl as though she'd very much enjoy strangling her. "Teach them dancing. Tumbling. Improvisation. Make them run, preferably on uneven ground. Teach them how to get out of holds like the one I just had you in. If they're close enough to throw a punch at anyone who's trying to kill them, they're _too fucking close_. I'll drag Zee over here later to get a feel for you people and your dynamics, get her to identify your weak spots—"

"Weak spots?"

"Zee kind of does what Molly does, talking to people and getting in their heads. I'd be _shocked_ if she can't at least identify how it's choosing the people it cultivates, give us some clues to the next moves it's going to make, just based on what _she_ would do if _she_ were trying to tear you all apart." That was, somehow, _not reassuring to know_. "She'll fill you in I'm sure. Right now, I'm more interested in talking to your witches, getting the quick quotes on how magic works over here. Also, have any of you ever set a dislocated shoulder before?"

"I think Willow can handle that? The magic talking thing, not your shoulder." Willow nodded, looking slightly confused at this turn of events, but almost definitely not more than Buffy was herself. And knowing the shadow demon _could_ have just popped out of nowhere and cut her throat just now, but _hadn't_ , had at least earned her enough trust to talk to Willow unsupervised. And in any case, she _definitely_ had a more urgent problem to deal with than their boring magic philosophy talk. " _I_ need to talk to Spike. Where exactly did you say you were staying?"

Apparently that was a much harder question to answer than Buffy really thought it should be — though maybe it had been kind of silly to expect someone who just _teleported_ all over the place to bother looking at the road signs — and the kid refused to go see what the actual address was until Buffy jammed her shoulder back into place. By the time she gave up the information, Giles was back from wherever he'd been off to — which both Buffy and the shadow creature were pleased to see. Buffy because Giles was secretly occasionally a total badass, and she didn't trust the demon _that_ much, and the demon herself because she seemed to think Giles was another witch she could question about magic.

By the time she got what she needed and extracted herself from the conversation, he was trying to explain to the stubborn little girl that he wasn't actually a witch, despite casting spells and knowing more _about_ magic than anyone else Buffy knew (which was an explanation she kind of wanted to hear, but _priorities_ ). She grabbed a couple of stakes from the pile of weaponry Willow had apparently been fetching for the girls, and was halfway back to the front door when Robin caught up with her.

"I'm coming with you," he said firmly. "I have a bone to pick with this vampire of yours."

_Fabulous_. "Take a number."


	9. Blood Play is Sexy

"I'm fine, Bella."

"Well, in that case, since when do you pay for it?"

"Ha bloody ha. It was nothing like that, just...making friends."

"Uh _huh_. Well, I managed to find a market, got us some food, water. You need help getting up?"

"What time is it?"

"Mid-morning? I'm going back to the Slayer's house."

The girl Spike was still using as a pillow groaned. " _No_ , I'm going back to sleep. Just...hand me a bottle of water, first? Cheers. Go away." She fumbled with the bottle, but after a moment, managed to open it, taking a long swig.

Shadow Girl giggled. "Fine. I would, however, like to point out that you complained pretty much constantly about the Fiends trying to eat you for the _entire_ time we were in that universe. Now you're just offering yourself up to any blood-sucker you happen to run into? Is it because this one's prettier?"

"I'll explain later. When I'm conscious. Which is not now."

"I'll check in in a few hours, then."

The shadow demon must have vanished, then. Spike didn't open his eyes to check, but after a few minutes, Mira's heartbeat slowed, her breaths growing deeper and more regular as she drifted back into sleep.

Spike didn't.

He...wasn't tired.

Which was strange, truth be told.

Or, not so strange really. He felt _good_ , alive in a way he hadn't since... Since those fuckers put that bloody chip in his head, really. It had happened so gradually he hadn't noticed at the time, but now it was bloody obvious — he'd grown _slow_ , his mind fogged, his body weak and tired, half-starved and too depressed and ashamed of himself to do anything about it.

Not that he wasn't ashamed of himself now — lying here, with a human heart beating six inches from his ear, surrounded by her scent, the warmth of her body seeping into his, he was acutely aware that he'd done something unforgivable, crossed a line he'd sworn never to cross again, _bitten a teenage girl_ — She was _sixteen_! It was as though he'd bitten _Dawn_!

 _Yes_ , she'd told him to, practically _ordered_ him to, but that didn't _matter_! She was just a kid! He never should've done it. He'd— He was the bloody adult, here, damn it! It'd been on _him_ to tell her _no_ , and he'd been weak, caving to his instincts and her innocent temptations. Offering to _let him bite her_ because she felt _sorry_ for him, and she wanted to help him keep the First at bay. She hadn't known what she was doing, she _couldn't_ have!

If she'd known that she was fanning the cursed fire, the _evil_ that burned at the core of his being, the hunger that at once sustained and tortured him, forcing smouldering coals to erupt into flames, driven to consume, that once he'd had a taste, he'd want _more_ , he'd _need_ more — she wouldn't have done it!

Because he _did_ want more. No matter how much better he felt now, he also felt—

It was taking _every_ bit of self-restraint he had, at the moment, not to go for her neck, to just lie here, still, not wake her up, not hurt her even more than he already _must_ have done— To not drain every drop of precious life from her body, and then throw self-restraint to the winds, go on a bender, slaughtering humans like pigs and drinking his fill for the first time in what might as well have been _forever_.

He could do it — he _was_ doing it — but it was _so_ much harder to resist, now he remembered what it felt like to be properly _himself_. He could feel new strength coursing through his body, it would be only too easy to, to go, take some human, he could find one no one would miss, some murderer or rapist, maybe, someone he wouldn't feel bad about removing from this world, sate his hunger for once in his eternally cursed life—

Except, it wouldn't.

He knew that.

He did.

There'd been a time in his life, decades at a stretch, where he'd fed and killed with terrible, glorious abandon, his existence one long orgy of violence, and it wasn't enough, it was _never_ enough! He knew that, he should have told her, should have told the poor, innocent thing lying inches away from death even now, so trusting of him, like a lamb curled up beside a bloody _lion_ — whatever she thought she knew about vampires, from her own world, they weren't the same as he was. They couldn't be, if feeding actually _slaked_ the thirst, rather than driving it to greater heights, sharpening the _need_. He knew that, he should have said something, when she'd said that she wanted to do this to weaken the First's hold over him — if anything, it would be _easier_ , now, for it to convince him to kill for it!

But he'd been weak.

He'd _wanted_ to believe her, that she was right, that this would _help_.

But of course it didn't, he was a _monster_ , he couldn't change that!

All the poor, misguided girl in his bed — the one who had _trusted_ him, had _let_ him bite her — had managed to do was make him a _stronger_ monster!

She shouldn't have– shouldn't have trusted him, shouldn't have let him. He was shocked he'd somehow managed to _stop_ , he didn't remember deciding to, just slipping into unconscious bliss with the taste of her still on his tongue, her heat and vitality surrounding him, _suffusing_ him — yielding to him and taking him over all at once, like the best sex he'd ever had, but more _intimate_ — She'd _trusted_ him...

(She'd trusted him a hell of a lot more than he trusted himself.)

Even now, she was just _lying there_ , completely helpless, falling asleep in his company not once, but _twice_ , sending away her only protection, perfectly vulnerable — somehow an even greater temptation than she'd offered before.

And he wanted to take it, to take _her_ , ruin that perfect trust, that innocence, bleed her dry and steal her life, take _everything_ from her...

But as he shifted to look at her, lying there, helpless and trusting and innocent as a child, her dark hair tousled from sleep, he couldn't. He just...couldn't.

He wanted to, the evil in him saw her innocent perfection and wanted, _needed_ to _ruin_ her, destroy the work of art that _was_ Mirabella Zabini, body and soul...

But at the same time, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything so... _precious_.

Yes, that was the word. _Precious_.

It was... _complicated_ , these pangs of guilt and need and _hunger_ warring with gratitude and almost... _awe_ , to give him such a gift as this, this act of faith in someone who was practically a perfect bloody _stranger_ , offering herself up to him and trusting him to _stop_ , to not take more than she had to give.

He couldn't stop himself asking, as her eyes fluttered open, dark lashes framing irises which seemed almost violet in the dim light filtering through the curtains, "Are you an angel?"

She laughed at him — of course she did. Bloody stupid, soft-headed question, that was. Sounded like a sodding romantic, _in love_ after a one night stand (though if he were still the sort of man who wrote poetry, he thought he would for her) — writhing and twisting against him, stretching the stiffness of sleep from her body, the sheet slipping down to reveal naked shoulders and soft, full breasts. "A fallen one, maybe."

Was she— He _knew_ they hadn't shagged, why the hell wasn't she wearing a shirt? _Or_ knickers, he realised, suddenly aware of smooth skin and soft hair pressed against the length of his body. And why the hell wasn't he scrambling to get out of what he now realised was a bed he'd been sharing with a naked sixteen-year-old? Yes, he'd been a bit preoccupied, hadn't realised it before, maybe that was acceptable ( _maybe_ ), but he knew _now_ — could feel himself growing hard over the matter, in fact ( _he_ was still wearing _his_ pants, at least, if not his shirt or trousers) — a gentleman would show some _respect_ , give the lady some space...even if she _had_ to be the one who'd undressed them...and obviously wasn't much of a lady, he recalled belatedly, some of the details of last night's conversations coming back to him. He _had_ , after all, had reason to call her a teenage succubus, even in jest... ( _Fallen angel indeed..._ )

"Feeling better?" she asked, a straightforward inquiry, her voice completely devoid of any suggestion that he must be, to which he might have taken offence. "Molly's not here, is she?"

"No," he admitted, the mention of the First effectively dampening his rising libido. "And...it's complicated."

"No, not feeling better, or no, Molly's not here?"

"Ah, the latter."

She hummed softly. "So, what's complicated, then?"

Spike sighed, letting his head fall back to stare at the ceiling rather than watch her watching him from inches away, apparently just as inclined to move as he was. She snuggled into the crook of his arm, pillowing her own head on _his_ chest as he tried to decide whether he wanted to explain. He might...owe it to her, he thought. At least enough to make her understand that while she obviously thought she was helping, she _wasn't_.

He'd told her last night that it was easier to _not start_ than to stop — that didn't just apply to a single, individual feeding. She'd compared it to a drug herself, hadn't she? Well, Spike had seen more drunks and junkies relapse than he could easily count, he knew what he was talking about when he said the only way not to fall back into an addiction was to avoid it entirely, damn it! It didn't _matter_ that he felt better, in some ways, feeding on humans, it—

"I shouldn't have done that. Shouldn't have..."

"...fed on me," she supplied, entirely too calmly. How could she _possibly_ be so comfortable with the idea of some vampire she'd barely _met_ , literally _eat her_? use her life to sustain his?

_What kind of person..._

He didn't realise he'd said that aloud until she prompted him, "What kind of person... _what_?"

He hesitated, but perhaps it was for the best. If she decided she wanted nothing more to do with him, it would be _far_ easier to keep himself from biting her again, when his control inevitably slipped. "You're mad. You have to be. What kind of person just _lets a vampire bite them_?"

He could feel her grin, the muscles of her face moving against his chest, hear the humour in her voice, though he couldn't say he got the joke. "Mm, a kinky one with daddy issues? I'm not mad, though. Ruthless, yes. Manipulative, certainly. But there's nothing irrational about me giving you something you desperately _need_ , and simultaneously taking away one of Molly's most dangerous pawns, especially when the cost to me is little more than a mild hangover headache."

"You _haven't_ , though!"

"Oh? Which part?" She smiled again, so– so _naïve_. _Ruthless and manipulative my arse!_ No matter how horrifying her shadow-demon friend was, Mira was nothing but a sweet, too-trusting little girl, obviously trying to justify doing something _kind_ with a more cold-hearted excuse because...well, probably the same reason he tried to justify taking care of the Little Bit with upholding his word. Couldn't let the world see how soft you really were.

The sort of people _he'd_ spent most of the past fifteen decades with would take advantage of that sort of thing in a heartbeat. Presumably Shadow Girl and this Tom character weren't much better.

(Letting anyone see how much that bothered him, that her friends, the people she called her _family_ , made her feel as though she needed to put on that sort of front, the... _protectiveness_ it sparked in him, was _exactly_ the sort of thing Dru would've left him for, being too _soft_...)

"You haven't...saved me from the First, from the evil in myself, or whatever you're thinking! I— Vampires _are evil_ , full stop!"

"And why is that, exactly?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious, _clearly_ not understanding what it _meant_ to be a vampire, at least in _this_ universe.

Which was how he ended up telling her...more than he'd ever told anyone, probably, about the century and more before he'd gotten his soul back. About William the Bloody, terrorising the countryside with Darla and Angelus and Dru. About the last few years, since he and Dru had come to Sunnydale, and how hard it was to– to try to be _good_ , when there wasn't a naturally _good_ bone in his bloody body, anymore. (The fact that the idea of confessing his sins was still lurking at the back of his mind _might_ have been a contributing factor.) He even told her about his mother, about turning _her_ , and her turning on _him_... He'd never told _anyone_ that. He'd never had anyone to _tell_.

He wasn't at _all_ certain how they ended up having sex, though.

Well, obviously he knew he'd gotten back around to why it was such a terrible thing that he'd bloody well _bitten her_ , and she'd suggested that if it bothered him so much and he wanted to make it up to her, he could do so with an orgasm or two...in _exactly_ those words, so bluntly that (again in her words) _you can't possibly twist_ that _around to think you're taking advantage of me, ridiculous man..._

He just couldn't think, now, how he'd thought it was a _good idea_ , taking her up on it.

 _Now_ being as Buffy and Principal Prejudiced over there barged in on the middle of round two, catching him with his head between her legs, her moaning and twisting her fingers in his hair and perhaps giving some truth to her claim that _I'm not the innocent you think I am,_ tesoro. (She refused to call him _Spike_ , and she'd clearly realised he didn't care to be _William_ any longer, the Italian endearment creeping into the conversation right around the point it had shifted from bloodlust to sex.)

For a long moment after Buffy threw open the door, startling him badly enough he felt his face start to shift, as though they were under attack, the four of them just stared at each other.

It was Mira who broke the stunned silence, sitting up to give the interlopers an exasperated sigh. "We're kind of in the middle of something, at the moment. Either lose the clothes and get your gorgeous arses over here, or get the fuck out."

Buffy did neither of those things. "Spike! What the hell are you _doing_?!"

"Er..." Realising how bad this looked, mostly, and suddenly being overwhelmed with guilt for having abandoned his unreciprocated love for the furious Slayer long enough to allow himself to be seduced by a sympathetic little slip of a girl.

"The word you're looking for is _Mirabella_ , _tesoro_ ," the girl said, with that same naughty smirk she'd worn last night, trying to convince him to bite her. "Is everyone in this universe so unbearably _jealous_ over men they've ostensibly cut loose? I mean, first Anya, and now you—"

" _Excuse_ me?!"

"Er...could you...cover yourself, Miss..." the headmaster said, _very clearly_ trying not to look at the naked girl who, Spike suddenly realised, was obviously young enough to be one of his students.

"Zabini, and no, I don't think I will. If your attraction to me bothers you, feel free to leave," she snapped, eyes narrowing in annoyance. The man shook his head as though he couldn't believe he'd just heard this girl so firmly deny his perfectly reasonable request with quite that degree of... _confidence_.

Spike couldn't help but snort slightly, the look on his face...

"What were you _thinking_?!" Buffy demanded — probably of him, he thought, though Mira managed to answer first.

"Mmm, blood play is sexy?" She smirked as Buffy was rendered just as speechless as her pet teacher. "Well, more that our William here has a _very_ nice cock, I presume you have to have noticed at some point. Just couldn't wait to try it out for myself. _So_ sorry." She wasn't. Not at all. And not even Buffy glaring at him or the fact that he'd just been called _William_ was sobering enough to stop a smile twitching at his lips, or the snort of laughter that escaped his chest. "Bella's not here, if you're looking for a rematch," she added, drawing his attention to the blood on Buffy's trousers, her swollen nose and the unbound cut on her arm.

"What makes you think I lost?" the Slayer snapped.

Mira rolled her eyes. "You may be stronger and faster than a human, but you're no Turok-Han. And I count three injuries on you, which suggests Bella found an excuse to challenge you to a duel to third blood, just to get your measure. And you lost."

Buffy scowled at her, saying more clearly than words that, _yes_ , that was _exactly_ what happened. "I'm not the one with four broken ribs at the moment, so I think we can call it a draw."

The demon girl groaned. "And I presume she's just decided to ignore that and continue running around acting as though she's bloody _invincible_ , forgetting the fact that there are no healing charms here if she manages to puncture a bloody lung — _idiot_." From the rather startled look on Buffy's face, Spike would guess she hadn't considered that the mad little demon might be seriously injured, or seriously injure herself in the aftermath of their fight. (It was a _little_ reassuring to realise that he wasn't the only one having trouble remembering to be the adult in the room. Honestly! Shadow Girl even _looked_ like a kid.)

"She was talking to Willow and Giles when we left," Buffy said, slightly defensively.

Mira sighed. "I suppose that's _something_. But if you're not looking for her, why are you here?"

"Why do you _think_?" she said, glaring at Spike. "She told us what you did!"

"Er..." Somehow in the course of the morning, it hadn't really occurred to Spike that _Buffy_ would have a problem with— He _should_ have, but with the First...

The exasperation the demon felt about having to have this conversation _again_ was _more_ than obvious. "I presume you're referring to Liam drinking my blood?"

 _Liam?_ ...Well, it wasn't _William_ , and he supposed she couldn't just keep calling him pet names in Italian, but he'd never been the sort for nicknames.

" _Liam_? You two got awfully cozy awfully fast," Buffy said, glaring at him as though it was far more egregious to've let this demon girl give him a nickname than to have fed on her _or_ fucked her, which was just... _Women!_

Principal Prejudiced over there was having none of that little diversion, though. "I know he seems pathetic and harmless—" _Hey!_ "—but he's a _vampire_ , a dangerous, violent creature, demon girl! A killer, driven by bloodlust and an instinct to destroy any human who crosses its path! He obviously _hasn't_ reformed himself as he claims, 'soul' or no, and we can't afford—"

"Oh, piss off," Spike interrupted, glaring at the arsehole. Who was _he_ to be offering unwanted opinions, here? He'd barely been _introduced!_ Until _yesterday_ , Buffy had thought _he_ was some sort of threat! "It was her idea, and she's _fine_!"

"I'm afraid it's true, Mister...Wood, was it?" She cocked her head to one side as though considering something, but dismissed whatever thought it was with a shrug. "Truth be told, he took a good deal more convincing than I expected. If you're concerned about the girls you've been trying to protect, I assure you, it's not necessary. I _do_ know what I'm doing, and I'm _hardly_ as helpless as I look."

Buffy scoffed at her. "That's not exactly a high bar, coming from someone lying naked in bed with my ex." Spike flinched. It still hurt, hearing her refer to their former...whatever, so cavalierly. "He's just using you, you know."

Mira squeezed Spike's arm reassuringly as he stiffened at that accusation, giving Buffy what could only be interpreted as a _too-innocent_ smile. "Ah, yes, your _ex_. We all know why _you're_ really here, Buffy. Rest assured, he does still love you — no doubt as soon as I'm gone, he'll go right back to being your little bitch, or whatever else you want from him." He glowered at her, though he couldn't _really_ contest the characterisation. And in any case, Mira didn't pause long enough to give him (or Buffy, who looked as annoyed as Spike felt) a chance. "But what about you, Mister Wood? I fancy I note something...mmm, _personal_ , in your enmity toward 'Spike', here. Something that wasn't there yesterday. And I don't believe anyone's yet explained how you came to enter the assassination business. You aren't by chance related to _Nikki_ Wood, are you?" The way his eyes went wide, the scent of fear suddenly tainting the air around him, said he was. ...Bugger. Spike had _just_ told the demon girl about killing her, got distracted talking about who he used to be. How had he not made that connection himself? "Go on, then. Who was she? Your mother? An aunt?"

"My mother."

Oh, bloody hell! What were the odds on _that?!_

Mira smirked. "Good, good. Now, if _I_ were Molly, and I were trying to break your little Slayer — your unstable, deeply codependent Slayer—"

"You little—!"

"I was still speaking, Buffy. I believe I told you and your friend Alexander last night, the most obvious fracture point at which to strike is your relationship with 'Spike'. Take him away from you and watch you crumble. So if I were Molly, I can't imagine I _wouldn't_ think it a good idea to position in your path a strong, handsome, upstanding gentleman such as Headmaster Wood, a _trustworthy_ gentleman she would be drawn to, because, well, who wouldn't? I mean, just look at him." She gave him a flirty wink, which made the already uncomfortable man again attempt to look anywhere but at the naked teenager as her tone grew more serious again. "A man with a grudge against a certain vampire, who could easily get close enough to position himself to avenge his mother's murder...if only he knew who'd killed her. And then, again, if I were Molly, I might take advantage of his being unsettled by the revelation that he'd just been fighting _alongside a vampire_ to reveal that _that very vampire_ was the one who orphaned him, who took his precious mother from him... So, have an unexpected visitor while you were at home, alone, thinking about last night's adventure in the small hours of the morning, did you?"

Wood, frozen, didn't answer. Though, Spike supposed he didn't have to, as Nikki's image appeared behind him, whispering in his ear and smirking over his shoulder at Spike. The girls didn't seem to notice.

"She's here," he muttered to Mira.

"Oh, lovely. Long time, no see, Molly, dear. In fact, I _still_ can't see you, which _does_ seem rather _rude_ , under the circumstances. Not that I don't have a bit of an exhibitionist bent, but it doesn't seem we'll be getting back to the programme any time soon, so. Ah, much better. Love the jacket, by the way."

Buffy must have been able to see her as well, as she startled, backing away from the bell-bottom-and-leather-jacket-bedecked Slayer's image, adopting a defensive stance...purely out of instinct, Spike assumed, since the stake clutched in her fist was hardly going to make much of an impact on the thing.

"What do you think you're doing, little girl? What game are you playing, here? Telling them I was the one who revealed the truth to my Robin doesn't make it less true!" ("You're _not_ my mother!" her 'son' snapped, though the thing ignored him.) "That vampire you're so enamoured with killed me — murdered me on the subway and stole my goddamn coat like the petty thief he is!"

"Well, killing a Slayer is a rather momentous occasion, as I understand it. You can hardly expect him not to have taken _some_ souvenir. And I'm hardly _playing_ yet. I've barely had a chance to even look at the board. But you've interrupted what was set to be a _very_ enjoyable afternoon with your machinations, and I find myself a bit _frustrated_ , if you know what I mean, so. Whether Buffy and Liam know why Mister Wood is attempting to kill him or not, I don't particularly care, but revealing the methods by which you operate _does_ make _your_ existence a bit more frustrating as well, doesn't it. And turnabout is fair play, regardless of the game."

" _I will end you_ ," the apparition hissed, fury twisting Nikki Wood's lovely face into a grotesque mask.

"That's nice, dear."

"You _dare_ condescend to _me_ , you wretched, _overconfident CHILD?!"_

"So says the impotent spectral manifestation who just picked a fight with a girl it _knows_ considers the rallying-point for its demonic army to be a _nice holiday spot_ , and thinks it can intimidate a _true_ child of the Dark with a bit of glamoury and melodrama. Just precious. Piss off." If Spike hadn't confirmed for himself just hours ago that there was blood in the girl's veins, rather than ice, he might have doubted it. There was certainly enough in her tone.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of, you cannot _comprehend_ — You would do well to show some _respect_ , _human_!"

"Talk is cheap, Molly. If you want me to show you the respect you _think_ you're owed, _impress me_."

"I will remind you of this moment, little _whore_ , as you're raped to death by the most _ardent_ of my followers," the thing said, its sudden serious calm _far_ more intimidating than its anger, at least to Spike. "You will _beg_ for mercy, but there will be none to be had." It vanished before the sound faded from their ears, ensuring that it kept the last word for itself, and apparently finally disconcerting Mirabella as well as everyone else.

A tiny frown-furrow appeared between her eyes. "Don't worry," Spike found himself assuring her, an arm wrapping around her shoulders. "We won't let her—"

"Oh, I'm not worried, _tesoro_. Bella won't let her kill me, by proxy or otherwise. Just wondering..."

"Wondering what?" Buffy asked when she trailed off, her frown deepening into contemplation.

"Oh! Whether that's _one_ very ardent follower I have to look forward to, or a proper orgy. _Most ardent of my followers_ could go either way, I think? I mean, I can't say the eyeless blokes seem much up to the task either way, but maybe she has a proper dedicant or two waiting in the wings?" She shrugged. "Suppose I'll just have to be surprised." Spike was sure the appalled horror on Wood and Buffy was echoed on his own face, but the mad girl took no notice, a bright grin replacing her contemplative frown. "So! You were saying, Mister Wood, that your mother was a Slayer?"

"Mister Wood", who had been saying no such thing, simply stared at her, sitting there naked and defenceless, and entirely unconcerned about the threat of violation and painful death which had just been issued to her by an ancient evil — which anyone in their right mind would be, Spike thought, at least a _tad_ concerned about.

"Aaand we're back to me being more concerned about Spike... What the hell were you _thinking_? You weren't just trying to make me jealous again, were you?!"

Spike winced. He thought he'd rather go back to the death threats...


	10. The Nature of Magic

"Well, if you're not a witch, how are you defining _witch_?" the shadow demon demanded, gingerly taking a seat on the edge of Willow's bed.

Rupert claimed the desk chair. Perhaps a bit unchivalrous of him, forcing Willow to stand or join the demon girl, but he was bloody _exhausted_. He'd spent the better part of the night worrying about Buffy and Xander, and then he'd rather unexpectedly gotten a tip that one of his...colleagues, for want of a better term, the owner of a magic shop out in Fresno, might have found another reference to the First — he couldn't _not_ go check it out, especially after it had been established that Spike was going to babysit their visitors, rather than leaving them at the house with the girls. Of course, the text had been worthless — an account written by a Chinese immigrant encountering one of the local spirits soon after his arrival, nothing to do with the First — so he'd just spent six hours in the car for nothing, and no sooner had he gotten back than Buffy had foisted "Bella" off on Willow and himself, in order to go have a word with Spike and the other demon girl about...something. She'd been rather evasive, he assumed it was something to do with their "non-"romantic entanglement, which she simply hadn't wanted to tell him about in the wake of his lecture last– early this morning. (Good _Lord_ he needed a nap. He was getting _far_ too old for this rubbish...)

Willow, apparently not intimidated by the girl — they really ought to work on her extrasensory perception (anyone in their right mind would be intimidated by the energy he could feel coming off the girl, he assumed she hadn't noticed) — sat beside her, giving her a look of concern which suggested she was taking the child-like appearance at face value. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Bella" made a face at her. "You sound like Zee. All, _slow down, you're hurt, you idiot,_ and _Are you sure you shouldn't maybe take it easy for a day or two?_ If I say I'm fine, I'm fine. If you're offering a healing spell — one that's _not_ based around calling some light-life-healing sort of deity—" Willow, who had briefly perked up, went rather flummoxed; Rupert, however, was entirely unsurprised that the dark creature sitting before them was loath to have a light spell worked upon herself. "—I'll take it, but otherwise, let it go. This is hardly the worst training injury I've ever gotten, and the look on Blondie's face when she lost was totally worth it."

"Speaking of which, I'm afraid I missed the better part of, well... _everything_ , earlier. What precisely happened between you and Buffy?"

"Eh, nothing, really. Your wannabe Auror Academy Instructor thought it would be a good idea to challenge my expertise, and Zee told me not to seriously injure any of you, even though I'm sure you have _some_ kind of healing magic here, even if it's not as easy as charms, but whatever. I figured it'd establish my _bona fides_ a bit better to beat the Slayer in a duel rather than some kid with an overinflated impression of her own abilities."

"Hey! Kennedy's a good fighter! Really good!"

"Oh, right, she's your girlfriend, isn't she? Well, she might be _really good_ compared to the average what? eighteen-year-old girl? nineteen? Whatever. I'm sure she could wipe the floor with any of the ones she was training, could probably hold her own against one of Molly's little puppets, even, but objectively speaking? If she were as good as she thinks she is, she wouldn't have let me smack her in front of her trainees. I'm guessing she's bought into that whole _they're Potentials, they have instincts_ thing a _little_ too much, but I'd have to ask Zee to be sure." She shrugged. " _Buffy's_ barely what I would call _good_. Well, she's good when she doesn't hold back, but she kept _stopping_ herself. And her style lacks a certain degree of...finesse. She _could_ be _really good_ , but she'd need to actually find a few really well-trained opponents in her weight class to practise with, and from what I've seen of this universe so far..."

Rupert couldn't help feeling a bit offended on behalf of his student, despite knowing full well that there was some truth to what the demon was saying. He'd tried to instill the basics of a few different disciplines of martial arts in her, but the vast majority of vampires and demons were hardly skilled fighters — she rarely needed to employ a strategy or technique more complex than _punch them in the face and stake/behead whilst disoriented._ Sometimes she kicked them instead of punching them, but same basic principle.

"Anyway, about that magic theory thing. I'm guessing it's too much to ask that either of you are familiar with the system the Rwasundi use to describe the orientation of various universes?"

"Rwasundi? Why does that sound familiar...?"

"We've encountered them before, Willow. Their presence disrupts the flow of time. Those incomparable _bastards_ used them to confuse Buffy about the death of that poor girl last year," Rupert reminded her, carefully avoiding saying Warren Mears's name. The boy Willow had killed while lost in her grief over Tara's death was still a touchy subject, though Rupert was pleased to see that she'd been moving on with Kennedy recently (all concerns about focusing on the task at hand aside).

"Well, it's not so much that they disrupt the flow of time as they don't really exist in the same dimensions — x, y, z, and time, I mean — as we humans do. They perceive what we would call the fifth dimension as analogous to our fourth — time — and _don't_ really perceive the fourth at all, so their actions and the objects they interact with appear to skip around in time from our perspective, giving an illusion of causality going all wonky and shite. But they're also big on what we call — in my world, I suppose I don't know what _you'd_ call it — extra-planar exploration. They describe other universes or _planes_ in nine dimensional aspects, which have nothing to do with the whole x-y-z-time _thing_ , but English doesn't have enough words for this sort of shite.

"Magic behaves differently in different planes based on their orientation according to these aspects. My plane and the Rwasundi home-plane are nearly parallel, just a few degrees off in the first and third aspects, so magic works pretty similarly there and at home. Theoretically, I mean, I've never been there. _This_ universe, and the series of universes to which it belongs — its plane — is oriented differently in the third, fourth, and eighth aspects. Not enough that magic is completely unrecognisable — soulfire still works, and Eris says she's known and has some influence here — but enough that your vampires and ours are kind of different, you seem to have a lot more non-human beings in general, actually, and I'm sure there are other differences, too. So. What can you tell me about magic?"

She sat there blinking from him to Willow and back with a rather expectant expression. Rupert didn't know about _her_ , but _he_ was thinking that it was probably rather less than the demon girl already knew. He'd heard demons _mention_ other dimensions, obviously — they had to come from _somewhere_. The Sleepwalker had even shown him some, back...before Randall. But that didn't mean he knew anything about how they might be classified or mapped, or even how one might go about doing such a thing. Rather at a loss, he resorted to cleaning his glasses, gaining a moment to think. Well, theoretically.

"Alright. We can start with something more specific. What's a witch? And what's the difference between a witch, and whatever Mister Giles here would call himself?" the demon asked impatiently.

"Ah. Well. I suppose the simplest way to put it would be...witches practise magic regularly, whereas I...don't. Not anymore." That probably wasn't terribly helpful, but honestly, Rupert wasn't really sure where to start. What sort of question was _what is magic? what is a witch?_ They were at once far too complicated and too simple to _explain_.

The demon girl smirked. "Yes, well, that would explain why Eris said that magic misses you, wouldn't it? Okay... Fine, whatever, I guess..."

"Er...Bella?"

"Not important. Just, you know, being reminded that since I'm the theory nerd in the room I should probably start. Just pretend I'm Tom, it'll be fine. Okay. So in my world, Magic, capital-M magic, is...everything that is, everything within the scope of human perception and outside of it, everything that has been and will be, the fundamental energy of the universe, the consciousness that arises from _life_. It's in everything, and almost all conscious beings have some ability to perceive it, though most humans can't use it. There are a few different approaches to spellcasting. The big two are wizardry and witchcraft.

"Wizardry involves, broadly, using a focus like a wand to affect certain effects, but ultimately it's an expression of the magic inherent in one's own being, manipulating your own magical field to channel and shape the ambient magic around you, and casting it back out into the world to do a thing. Charms are physical force effects, glamours are perception effects — they get lumped in with charms even though they're really not the same at all. Same with divination, interpreting the echoes of events through ambient magic. Transfiguration changes what a thing _is_ , temporarily re-defining it, or imposing a different identity onto it. Mind magic involves your magical energy interacting directly with that of another conscious being. Freeform magic is similar, interacting with ambient magic across a broad contact, without a focus and without actually _channelling_ the external energy.

"Witchcraft, on the other hand, generally involves using magic entirely outside oneself. Rituals, including runic magic, potions, and alchemy; weather-working; geomancy; and so on. The magic can come from magical plants and creatures, or inanimate objects like crystals that have absorbed magical energy, natural forces like storms or fire or the tide or even the movement of the stars — that'd be low ritual — or, as Tom once put it, by catching Magic's eye and saying _pretty please_. Most people would say high ritual is more like making a deal with a god. Like my arrangement with Eris, or the covenant my family holds with the Dark — what your pathetic 'First Evil' is _pretending_ to be. In exchange for its assurances that our House won't die out no matter how stupidly impulsive and self-destructive we might be, we promote its interests in society. I'm sure you can imagine the sort of thing.

"Because it doesn't really depend on your own magic, practically _anyone_ can do witchcraft, assuming they have access to the right materials. For wizardry you need an intuitive understanding of your own magic, and everyone has a limit as to how much energy they can physically channel before their brains melt or their bodies literally burst into flame. That's different for everyone, and limits the spells you can do. As far as I can tell, the density of ambient magic in this universe isn't great enough for proper wizardry, which is why Zee's wand doesn't work. She said Buffy said ritual magic _does_ work, though, so does any of that sound familiar?"

"Er...kind of? Some of it. Potions, and, well, rituals, sure. But Buffy _also_ said you can still cast magic. Like conjuring fire?"

The demon grinned. " _This_ ," she said, clicking her fingers to create a flame in the palm of her hand, flickering violet and electric blue, "is Soulfire. It's a direct manifestation of the magic generated by my life and contained in me, forced into the external world. Hand?" she said, holding her own out toward Willow. She reached out to take it with only the slightest hesitation, absolute fascination painted across her face.

"Perhaps you shouldn't—" Rupert began, though he cut himself off as the girl tipped the flame into Willow's cupped hands, to no apparent ill effect.

In fact, Willow giggled. "It tickles!"

"It's a little bit of myself, essentially, which is destroyed when I let go of it, the energy of which can be used to create any number of effects. Or, in this case, given to someone else who can sustain it, and transmute it to become part of themselves. You can have it," she told the older girl, still staring as the violet energy slowly shifted to gold in her hands.

"But— What do you mean? You said it's _part of you_!"

"Well it _was_. I already let go of it, though. It's fine, it regenerates. Or, well, I guess you _could_ kill yourself by using too much of it too quickly, but that's hardly anything. Just stop thinking about keeping the flame alive, let the energy flow back into you." She laughed as Willow apparently did so, a wave of light rushing over her skin, eyes glowing briefly golden, much as they had gone black when she'd gone _dark_. (Rupert would be lying if he said he didn't find it somewhat unnerving.)

"Holy... _wow_ , that's a rush. Like..." Her eyes flicked over to meet his, very briefly, guilt flickering in their depths. "Like...with Rack. Getting high on magic. Without, you know, all the trippy, _whoo_..."

"Yeah, we call it getting lit up, when someone _gives_ you energy like that. You can use it for healing, or to sustain someone when they're on the brink of death, which is what _most_ people who've heard of it would use it for. We depraved hedonists outside the purview of polite society just do it because it's fun." That was, presumably, a reference to some joke Rupert and Willow weren't in on, as she smirked to herself for a brief moment. "Most people haven't heard of it, though, let alone learned how to use it. It's much more widely known that you can _take_ energy from others, though that's much more difficult unless you're a natural mind mage or they're _giving_ it to you like I just did, so even fewer people get into metaphagy. It's kind of Tom's specialty, so both Zee and I have learned a bit, but like I said, it's rare, freeform, intuitive soul magic.

"There's also a category of magics that _use_ your body _as_ a focus, kind of between freeform wizardry and low ritual magic. Usually that's called blood magic, though it doesn't have to involve blood. There are sex rituals and a few different disciplines of artistic casting that technically qualify, singing and dancing, that sort of thing. Also pretty intuitive, more emotionally guided. If you had to define us by our strongest casting areas, I'm a wizard, Tom's a witch, and Zee's a siren. I mean, not _literally_ , there are actual mer-folk in our world, but that's what we'd call someone who has more talent for performative magics than wand-magic or rituals.

" _So_ , what kinds of things can _you_ do?"

"Er, well...the most basic things are like, telekinesis, you know, moving things with your mind? Or, well, I guess the _most_ basic things are rituals like you said, making potions or burning herbs and reading out of a book to summon demons — even _Andrew_ can do _that_. But I guess you'd say what makes witches, real witches, different from any other wanna-blessed-bes sitting around playing at being a coven is we can actually...do things. Beyond levitating pencils and so on, there are transformation spells and locator spells and things like that?"

"And necromancy?"

Willow flushed. As well she should. It was an incredibly ill-considered bit of magic, bringing Buffy back, disrupting the Balance as she had! She nodded. "That was a ritual, though. Osiris did it, really, not _me_. Giles could have done what I did."

Rupert glared at her. "I most certainly could _not!_ It was incredibly reckless of you, and—"

"Technically, I mean. You _could_ , even if you wouldn't. And when I... I kinda...lost myself, when my girlfriend died and, um...kind of tried to destroy the world, because it...didn't seem worth it. Life. But, um. Giles stopped me. Well, Xander stopped me, but Giles slowed me down. He borrowed some magic from a coven in Britain and was using it to try to stop me. And after, he taught me how to get myself under control, again, so... I mean... _I_ think you're a witch, Giles. Now that I'm thinking about it, I don't really know why...?"

Rupert sighed. "I suppose the real difference between the two of us would be that you, Willow, have an intuitive understanding of magic. It's true I've learned to do rather a lot of ritual spells over the years — when I was young, I daresay my friends and I could be compared to young Andrew in our mastery of the forces we ignorantly invoked — but... When you were...not yourself, you were using magic without any formal spells to speak of — the same sort of magic behind telekinesis, but on a much larger scale. And the casual altering of reality you were doing when you were experimenting with black magic with Amy, that sort of thing is — has _always_ been — beyond me."

"...Oh."

"So, when you say you lost yourself and tried to destroy the world, could that happen to a 'non-witch' who only uses formal rituals, like Mister Giles?"

Rupert exchanged a questioning glance with Willow. Honestly, he...wasn't certain? He'd never _heard_ of such a thing, before, unless, well... "There are entities which can possess a human...?"

"Yeah, but could Magic Itself possess you? Because that's kind of what that little incident sounds like."

"I...don't think so."

The little demon girl grinned. "Right, so if I understand this right, you'd call _me_ a witch, but not Zee, because I'm _positive_ she can still do blood magic, and obviously _everyone_ can do low ritual, but she can't do freeform magic."

"Can you?"

The demon raised an eyebrow at the red-headed witch. "Soulfire _is_ freeform magic — an effect of external aura manipulation. But if you mean simple charms...yes?" She waved briefly at a pile of books beside Rupert, which floated into the air. A twitch of her fingers conjured a small sphere of light. "Takes more effort and focus to cast and maintain than in my world, Tom would give me endless shite for actually needing a physical directive focus, but sure. I mean, Buffy did tell you I lost my temper with that uncooperative N.H.B. last night, didn't she? How did she _think_ I blew its useless head up?" She...hadn't speculated, honestly. At least not with Rupert. "And you said _reality-warping_? Is that dimensionalism, or transfiguration? I mean, shadow-magic is dimensionalism—" She pulled a wicked-looking bone athame out of nowhere, presumably as a demonstration of "shadow-magic", but vanished it again just as quickly. "—again, nothing to do with x, y, z, and time, _or_ the description of planar orientation, but, words. And honestly I haven't tried any transfigurations, yet. Pass me a quill or something?"

"A _quill_?" Willow echoed.

"Do you not use animal products as the basis for enchanted objects? Quills and parchment are easier to impress with magic than paper and complex machinery like printing presses. In my world, at least. I mean, you _can_ enchant a press, but it takes ages, and it's only worth the upkeep if you're actually a publishing house or newspaper or something."

"We don't use magic on _everything_ ," Rupert informed her, passing over a pencil, after a quick rummage through the nearest drawer. "But yes, you'll find most enchanted books are hand-written on parchment, bound in leather."

"Really? I thought that was just, you know, they're _old_."

Rupert rolled his eyes. "That, too."

"Okay, that's annoying," the demon said, glaring at the pencil in her hand.

"What were you trying to do?"

"Use transfiguration to evert it along the w-axis, sort of turning it inside-out. But if that's even possible in this universe, it would take a hell of a lot more magic than I've got at my disposal _without_ being able to rely on external energy. Transmutation works, though," she said, drawing a finger along the length of the pencil, wood turning metallic in its wake, forming a six-inch-long dart which she lobbed back to Rupert — side-on as to avoid stabbing him, which he did appreciate. "Probably won't last long, because again, sustaining it would take more power than I'm willing to put into it, but."

"Is this _silver_?"

"No, of course not, do you know how hard it is to transmute silver? Doing that with a freeform spell would be harder than conjuring bloody _gold_ with a proper wand, even if it weren't about four times more difficult than it should be anyway. I'd be hard-pressed to do _iron_ here, honestly. That's aluminium. Aaand, it's already reverting."

So it was. Rupert looked down to see the metal fading back to yellow-painted wood, growing lighter in his hand as it did.

"So, wait, you said earlier, that it would take more magic than you have without relying on external energy? But I'm pretty sure I _do_ use... Were you calling it _ambient_ magic?" Willow gave a little considering hum. "Ambient magic, I like it. Anyway, if I were trying to transform a thing, I'd do it like _this_ — here, Giles, pass me the..."

"Are you sure?" he had to ask, because last _he_ knew, Willow had been having trouble avoiding being... _influenced_ while attempting to cast even the simplest of spells. A small, suspicious part of him couldn't help wondering whether her sudden confidence was due to the power-rush she'd just gotten from the demon girl. An engineered bout of _over_ confidence, perhaps.

Though the doubt that surfaced in response to his question _was_ slightly reassuring. "I...think it'll be fine? I mean, if the First tries to get in my head, I'll stop. That's what I did last time, so..."

"Wait. Molly's been trying to possess you whenever you do magic? How does _that_ work?"

"Er...well...I have to kind of...open myself up, to do magic. I can't really explain it. But it... I can feel it trying to take me over and make me forget who I am and destroy everyone I love whenever I do."

The demon blinked at her. "Well, _that's_ interesting. Tell you what, if you go evil and try to kill your friends and shite, I'll stop you. Promise."

"Er..."

"It doesn't matter if _you_ believe me," the demon informed her. "Magic knows I keep my promises, and if Molly thinks I'm not capable of putting _you_ down, it's even stupider than I thought. If it's even paying attention to us at the moment — which it might not be, because I'm pretty sure Zee's busy stealing its vampire — it knows better than to try to use you when I'm here. Best case is, you end up dead and useless."

"That's...not exactly—" _Reassuring_ , Rupert was going to say. He'd _seen_ Willow at her worst, and while he didn't doubt the demon girl was dangerous — far more so than any of the other Potentials — he couldn't quite bring himself to believe she would have been able to stop the embodiment of dark magic and pain Willow had become at her lowest point.

Bella cut him off with a disturbing grin. "Yeah, Buffy underestimated me, too."

"It's fine, Giles." Willow, oddly, _did_ look somewhat reassured. "If it starts feeling like she's getting all _possess-y_ , I'll just stop."

He handed her the pencil. "Thanks." She held it before herself on an open palm, closing her eyes as though meditating. After a long moment — Rupert was as guilty as anyone of holding his breath as he waited for the magic to take effect — there was a sort of invisible _ripple_ around them, and in a blink the pencil was gone, replaced by the dart, which Willow handed back to the demon, absolutely elated.

The girl just stared at it for a long moment, weighing it in her hand and then _licking_ it — why, Rupert couldn't imagine — before turning back to Willow, blatant astonishment painted across her face. "This _is_ silver. Not illusory silver or a superficial physical transformation — actual, alchemised silver, magical properties and all. How did you _do_ that?"

The older girl startled at her sudden intensity. "Oh, I, um... I just kind of...visualize what I want and sort of...wish for it. I don't know, I can't really describe it any better than that."

The demon's eyes narrowed. "Can you change it back?"

"Oh! Um, I guess?"

"Do it," the terrifying child demanded. "Slower this time, if you can."

This time, as Rupert held his breath and Willow closed her eyes, the demon's began to glow slightly, her head cocked to one side as she stared intently at the object. Power emanated from her much more strongly than before, engulfing all of them with a dark, mischievous sort of energy that made Rupert think of Ethan.

Willow opened her eyes. "What are you doing?"

" _Watching_. Why?"

"Because whatever you're doing, it's interfering with my spell."

"So you've already cast it?"

"Er...yes?"

The demonic energy retreated, the silver dart transforming instantly back into a pencil. The demon grinned. "Okay, _now_ we're getting somewhere!"

"And where is that, exactly?" Rupert found himself asking. He hadn't felt the little ripple of transformative magic in the wake of the demon's power, but he assumed it had been very much the same as Willow's initial effort.

Her grin only grew wider. "Getting magic's attention and saying _pretty please_ , basically. Okay, what else should work here if I'm right? Scrying? You have to have scrying, right?" she asked eagerly.

Willow, whose own enthusiasm for the subject and excitement over having successfully cast magic _without_ any interference from the First, seemed to be slowly overwhelming her confusion, nodded. "If you mean with water or fire, sure. I even met a witch in England who scried the _wind_. But usually I'd use a locator or tracking spell, especially if you have something connected to whatever you're looking for."

"Ooh, right, sympathy would _definitely_ work. I bet you've got hoo-doo and shamanic witch-doctors and such, too. And Mister Giles mentioned enchanted books — are those ritual or written enchantments?"

"Er...both? I guess?" She shot Rupert a questioning look.

He nodded, too preoccupied with that first revelation to be distracted by _books_...which was saying rather a lot, wasn't it? But he was quite certain the demon girl had been suggesting that Willow wasn't working magic _herself_ , in the same way she would have learned to levitate pencils and light candles with magic, but rather _asking the magic of the world_ to _do things for her_. Which was a bit _terrifying_ , especially as _magic_ seemed quite willing to do whatever she asked of it, at least with such parlour tricks as these.

He swallowed hard. All of those months of meditation and learning self-control, they'd never spoken of _how_ magic worked. He'd known, of course, that she couldn't go back to _not_ having power, now that she'd broken through so very dramatically, but he'd hardly imagined...

"Ah, Willow, if you'll be okay here for a moment, I need to step out..." he said, trying not to let his voice betray his emotions.

"Uh, yeah? Sure, Giles... Do you mean Enochian? I don't think anyone actually _speaks_ it, but it looks kind of like— Actually, I might have some fragments copied somewhere," she said excitedly, hunting through a pile of papers as Rupert slipped out of the room, obviously too distracted to have noticed the stiffness of his words. The little demon girl didn't, though, smirking at him as he closed the door firmly behind himself.

He wouldn't leave them alone _long_ , of course, he couldn't. Who _knew_ what kind of feats the demon might convince Willow to attempt? But he needed... Well, he rather thought he could use a drink, honestly. But water would have to do. Best keep his wits about him, and all that.

"Hi, Giles!" a peppy, familiar voice said, following him into the kitchen.

"Oh! Anya! What— How are _you_... How's Xander?"

"Well enough to go to work, according to the little gay boy," she said, sniffing dismissively. "Though I'm sure he wouldn't be if I'd let that horny little bunny have her way with him. Anyway, what's wrong with _you_? You're all..." She waved an inarticulate hand at him. " _Odd_."

Odd. Yes, he _felt_ a bit _odd_. Much as though the entire world was tipping under his feet, or he'd suddenly realised that he'd been standing in a rowboat rather than on solid land for some time without noticing. "You know, I'm glad you're here, Anya. Willow and I have been speaking to... _Bellatrix_ —" The name was rather on the nose, he thought. "—about magic. Are you familiar with the Rwasundi descriptive system of...planar orientation?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes, _obviously_. How did you _think_ demons navigate between universes? Honestly, you're such a homebody. This universe is called Drux, in plane...hang on, I'll write it down for you."

"Or, you could just come join us up in Willow's room," he wheedled. It couldn't possibly hurt to introduce a perspective which _didn't_ make Rupert wonder if perhaps it was only a matter of time until Willow finally _did_ destroy the world after all. Well, assuming they lived through _this_ apocalypse... "They were talking about how magic works when I stepped out."

"Oh, _fine_ , it's not like I have a _shop_ to keep anymore, or anything..." she complained, snagging the notepad from the counter beside the phone as she headed for the stairs. All in show, of course, if there was anything Anya liked as much as money...and Xander...it was talking about the good old days as a demon, with people who _didn't_ think her a horrible monster for having been a purveyor of vengeance for well over a millennium. She was probably only here because she was _bored_ , anyway.

"Lovely."


	11. Weak Links

"I do hope I'm not interrupting."

The demon Mirabella _was_ , in fact, interrupting, but Willow couldn't help but think that might be a good thing. She was pretty sure Mira knew it too, leaning on the doorframe with a soft smile that made Willow think she'd been standing there listening to her girlfriend chattering with Anya about _sleeping worlds_ and how much magic there was or wasn't in this universe, and how it all _worked_ , for some time.

Willow, personally, had lost track of the conversation about half an hour ago, when the demons (demon and _ex_ -demon, whatever) slipped into Enochian — Bellatrix called the magical language demons sometimes spoke among themselves _Old High Elvish_ , and she had an accent according to Anya — and she hadn't quite managed to pick it up again. They'd been talking about some interdimensional mumbo-jumbo English didn't have the right words for, and by the time they'd switched back, they'd moved on enough Willow couldn't follow. They definitely weren't talking about how magic actually worked _in practice_ anymore, so she didn't really have much to contribute to the conversation. She'd mostly been exchanging confused looks with Giles for the past twenty minutes or so, as Anya tried to explain that there were more _kinds_ of magic in this universe ("plane") than Bellatrix was used to, and why.

"Oh! That's quite alright, Miss...Zabini, wasn't it?"

"Mmm, call me Mira, Rupert. We _are_ all... _friends_ here, are we not?" she said, something about the way she said _friends_ hinting that _friends_ could mean whatever he wanted it to mean.

Giles stuttered for a moment at the insinuation, prompting her to give him a _stunning_ smile. Not to, like, be a bitch or anything, but Willow was _sure_ she practiced it in the mirror. It didn't _look_ fake, but it'd taken all of five minutes to realize that was just the kind of girl Mira was — the kind who was _very aware_ that she was the sexiest person in the room at all times. The kind who walked out of hell looking like a damsel in distress _in a movie_ , and made the old, sunflower-printed dress Dawn had found for her look positively glamorous. The kind who delighted in flirting with people just to watch them get all flustered and stuttery, and laughing at them when they did.

(The kind of girl who had called Willow a nerd all through high school. Not that she _wasn't_ , they just always said it in a _mean_ way.)

"Hey, Zee. I assume you aren't here to chime in on planar orientation and metaphysical mechanics?"

(Her girlfriend, in contrast, was probably a bigger nerd than Willow, so maybe comparing Mira to the mean girls she'd known in school was a little unfair. None of _them_ would be caught dead _talking_ to her, let alone _dating_ her...)

"You assume correctly. Shockingly enough, dragging me to hell on holiday does _not_ make me more inclined to listen to your theoretical, jargon-laden babbling. It's even more annoying when Tom's not around to explain what the hell you're talking about in plain English. Have you managed to sort out how magic works here, yet?"

"Yep!" Bella chirped. "Well, mostly...for some of it. I'll fill you in later, but mostly it seems like they just use freeform magic and ritual for _everything_. Granted, it's much more _difficult_ to use freeform magic because the atmosphere's thinner, metaphorically speaking, but if we can find a way to introduce you to magic, you can probably just ask it to do things for you like Willow does—" Willow herself wouldn't put it like that, exactly, but... "—instead of doing them yourself. There's no apparent incompatibility between our souls and the locals', so—"

"Which you would know because...?" Mira asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I _may_ have lit Willow up, just a little."

"Bella!"

"A _little_ , I said! She's _fine_. Brain only slightly melted from jargon-laden babbling, not forced magical overload." Willow thought she must have made some unconscious sound, because the demon smirked at her. She hadn't even known _brain melting_ was on the table! Letting that little bit of power flow into her had made her feel all too-much-coffee and too-little-sleep _jittery_ (she still was, a little), like she had too much energy and nothing to do with it, but not _brain melt-y_! "There was really _very_ little chance of brain-melting, promise. I did say I'd play nice, after all. Subsumption totally works here, by the way. Blood magic should, too. Sympathy. Most witchcraft, really, though trying to just do low rituals from home might be problematic, different pervasive symbolic meaning for symbols and potions ingredients, you know? You manage to seduce the vampire yet? Oh, wait! Better question: did you get him to tell you what _vampire_ means in this universe?"

"We were interrupted by a jealous ex-girlfriend, the son of one of his victims, and a certain manipulative bitch," Mira said, not specifying whether it was talking or _more than talking_ that they'd interrupted, but if it was the latter Willow was sure Buffy would tell her all about it later. "I'm afraid I was a bit short with dear Molly. I may or may not have been threatened with an orgy, she was a bit _vague_ , and left in a snit before I could ask her to clarify. If she _is_ organising a group thing for me, I _might_ forgive her for calling me a whore."

Anya scoffed at her. "Well you _have_ been throwing yourself at every man you've come across since you got here."

"I may be a horny bunny — still _love_ that turn of phrase, by the way — but I fuck people for the sex itself, not _money_ ," she informed the ex-vengeance demon drily. Willow _thought_ she heard Anya mutter _what's wrong with money?_ but Mira apparently didn't. "Anyway, Bella, while you've been having your ribs broken and chattering on about magic theory—"

"Oh, stuff it, it's not like I've never broken a rib before, and the healing thing I figured out in Valhalla works here, too. Better, even, since there's food here. I'll be fine in a few hours. Well, I'm fine _now_ , but— You know what I mean."

Willow wanted to ask what _the healing thing_ was, if it was like the meditative healing she'd learned in England. If it was, they _could_ stop talking (no matter how interesting it was trying to figure out how magic worked in their world compared to hers), let her focus on it for a while. Heck, she could even give that energy back to her — it occurred to her belatedly that the power transfer flame thingy was much more like drawing on Buffy's strength to heal herself than anything Rack had done.

But before she could ask, Mira gave Bella a skeptical _uh-huh_. "Yes, well, I've been convincing the good Headmaster to put off his quest for vengeance against Liam until after this situation with Molly is settled—"

" _Liam_?" Giles repeated. "And why is Mister Wood seeking vengeance against Spike?"

"'Spike' is a _ridiculous_ name, and apparently he killed Robin's mother. She was the Slayer at the time, so I honestly don't think the incident is particularly demanding of vengeance — presumably Miss Wood was attempting to kill _him_ as well. But in any case, we — Buffy and I — are meeting with the Potentials to evaluate their weaknesses, if you'd care to join us."

The little demon groaned. "But listening to pathetic children being all emotional and shite is way less interesting than _magic_. Anya was just explaining how it's possible to be an _ex_ -vengeance demon."

"Well, technically we were talking about sleeping worlds, but—"

"Yeah, but that was just a diversion, I still want to know about being a vengeance demon. Andrew said it's like a _job_? How neat is that!"

Anya grinned, obviously flattered. (Like she'd forgotten she hadn't _liked_ being a vengeance demon again, after the not-wedding, or something.)

"Yes, well, I'm sure Anya will still be an ex-vengeance demon in a few hours, and I daresay your new friends could use a break from you. Don't feel too bad, love, trying to keep up with Bella can make _anyone_ feel a bit overwhelmed," she added, giving Willow a smile that was all the more patronizing because she and Bella were, by her own admission, about six years younger than Willow.

...Not that either one of them really acted like it. Bella tended to ramble like an excitable little kid, but the way she spoke was more like one of the grad students who TA'd Willow's intro classes at UC, and Willow wasn't sure if it was that little taste of her power or watching her practically _assassinate_ the Bringers last night, but she _absolutely_ believed the little demon when she said she could stop Dark Willow killing all of them for the First, if she had to. (Which was...oddly comforting? Like knowing she had a safety net, kind of. One that protected everyone else from _her_.) And if Bella looked like she was about thirteen, Mira looked at _least_ eighteen, with a poise and maturity that made her seem like more of an adult than Willow ever really felt. Like sometimes when she was listening to Xander talk about work and being engaged (back when he and Anya were still getting married) and moving out of his parents' house, and realizing, _holy crap, we're grown-ups now, how the_ heck _did that happen?!_

" _Ugh_ , fine." Bella popped to her feet, much more easily than she'd sat down — apparently her ribs really _were_ feeling better. "Do you have...I don't know, lithographs, or something like that in this universe?"

Giles blinked at the non-sequitur. "Oh, well, yes, we do, but I think you'll find technology's come quite some way since... When did you say you were from?"

"Sixty-Six. Though honestly, I don't really know what muggle technology is like at home either, I just know that muggles _do_ have lithography...though muggle lithos aren't animated, I don't think, so probably easier to make?"

"Yes, well, we now have something called a _photocopier_ , no etching required."

"What did you want to copy?" Willow asked.

"Oh, well, I hear you haven't a bloody clue how to kill the Fiends, so I thought I'd make some anatomical sketches while everyone else is being _boring_. Make copies, pass them around to anyone who's thinking of actually trying to fight them. I assume Buffy and her little army of terrified children aren't the _entirety_ of your first line of defense. I mean, you have to have your own version of battlemages, right?"

"Er..." Willow could easily imagine what a "battlemage" might _be_ , but she'd...honestly never considered using magic in such a harmful way. Not when she was in her right mind, at least. She didn't know anyone who _would_. She exchanged a rather disconcerted look with Giles, leaving Anya to answer the question, with her customary degree of tact.

"No, that's it. I'm pretty sure we're all going to die."

"Are you— Zee, is she fucking with me?"

The other demon seemed to be trying not to laugh. "No, she's not."

Bella turned from one of them to the next, completely uncomprehendingly, as though expecting one of them to say _just kidding_. "Why _not_? _Willow_ obviously doesn't have the temperament for it, but she can't be the _only_ witch you _know_ , even if she's the only one _here, now_. I _refuse_ to believe there are no soldiers or warriors of any sort in this bloody universe. In case you haven't considered it, I'm sure at least _some_ of them have a vested interest in keeping humanity alive. Even if they're not mages, this universe _does_ have firearms, yes? And explosives? Alcohol and pitch burn here, right? I mean, we didn't really go into chemistry at all, but you have combustion-powered _automobiles_. You have to be at least _passingly_ familiar with _things that go boom_ , and you don't really need magic _or_ much training to sling makeshift bombs at hordes of enemies.

"And Wood _is_ the headmaster of that school the portal is in, isn't he? Meaning you have all the access you could possibly _need_ , there — have you even _considered_ booby-trapping the area around the portal? I mean, I'm not complaining they got it open to let _us_ out, but if you're trying to keep these invaders contained, that seems pretty basic. Fuck, didn't Andrew say Xander does construction? Just pour half a ton of concrete on top of it, or that stuff your roads are paved with, or whatever he's got on hand. Moving _dirt_ without magic is a pain, but that would be _much_ more difficult to get through, gives you plenty of time to kill anyone trying to get the doorway open again, and I guarantee punching a new hole between universes is a pain in the arse, or they wouldn't bother with the one we came through in the first place.

"Presumably there's a spatial correlation between universes too, or they wouldn't be trying to open a portal with a fucking _Slayer_ sitting on top of it, which means this town is ground zero when they eventually break through. Getting all the humans out would be a good start, defensively speaking. You don't need to eat in the universe they're rallying in, but I guarantee the Fiends are going to get hungry at some point in their invasion. Actually, we should look into containment magics, too, see if there's a way to trap them on this side of the portal and put the entire town under siege. Have you ever seen a town under siege? Things get nasty _quick_ , and Fiends are not the most disciplined beings, to put it lightly. Of course, that would require you to recruit some more useful allies, i.e., _not scared, civilian teenage girls_ , but."

There was a _long_ beat of silence in the wake of that little tirade, during which the tiny demon girl glared at each of them in turn.

"Oh, come _on_ , this is _elementary_ strategic planning, here. _Literally_ elementary, my six-year-old sister could plan a better defensive campaign than you idiots. _Zee_ could plan a better defence than you, and _her_ usual approach to violence is to seduce someone and convince them to do any necessary killing _for_ her."

"Thank you, Bellatrix, for that ringing endorsement and characterisation of our relationship."

"What? I didn't say it was a _bad_ strategy. Especially when taking the Judith approach isn't an option."

"Ha, bloody ha."

"There are allies I have been attempting to locate and contact," Giles said, while Willow was still trying to remember who Judith was. Was she a _biblical_ character? (She had trouble keeping the names Christians used straight sometimes, but "Judith" sounded like it was probably Yehudit.) Somehow Willow couldn't imagine the terrifying little demon sitting down to read the Tanakh, but—

Wait, _what_? That was the first _Willow_ had heard of any _allies_! And Anya looked just as surprised as Willow. _Someone's been keeping secrets..._

"I...hadn't wanted to get anyone's hopes up," Giles explained, "in case it doesn't pan out. The Devon Coven is scrying for them as well as for any as-yet-unidentified Potentials. Unfortunately, with the destruction of the Watchers' Council and the deaths of its members, the usual lines of communication between such groups have been disrupted, and everyone has become far more cautious of late, for obvious reasons. As you know, there _are_ ways to obscure yourself from those seeking you out, so..."

Bella rolled her eyes. "Well, I guess that's _something_. We can talk strategy later, after Spike fills me in on what he knows about Molly's resources. _Someone_ was monopolising him all day."

Mira flipped her off. "A girl has _needs_ , Bella. And even vampires need to _sleep_."

"Psh, _boring_." The little demon shot back, making Willow wonder if she _didn't_. (Sleep _or_ "have needs".) "So, photo-copying? Is that exactly what it sounds like?"

"I...suppose that depends entirely on what you think it sounds like," Giles said slowly, all unnerved by the demon again, which was _weird_ , because she hadn't even done anything this time, really.

"I draw a positive image, you use a photographic plate to produce the negative, and somehow use _that_ to recreate the original."

Anya nodded. "Close enough."

"Brill. I suppose I'm ready to play dark Auror for you, then. Also, stealing this," she added, snatching the notebook she and Anya had been using to draw models and diagrams, trying to explain the idea of different planes of reality to Willow and Giles. "And this." The pencil they'd been playing with transforming, earlier. She flounced out of the room without another word.

"Front parlor!" Mira called after her.

"What does that mean, playing dark Auror?" Willow asked, as they followed her toward the stairs.

Mira smirked at her, over her shoulder. "Bella can be a bit...unnerving, you might have noticed."

"Um, yeah, you could say that."

"Hey, I like her!" Anya objected. Not that that was saying much. Anya herself...wasn't very good at being human a lot of the time. "She says what she means. Most of you humans don't."

"Are you forgetting you're human now, Anya?"

"Oh, shut up, Giles."

" _Anyway_ , it can be helpful in trying to assess weaknesses in people one's hardly met to apply a bit of _pressure_. In this case, Bella being Bella — asking unhelpful questions about perfectly normal human emotional responses and making odd observations and sketching overly-detailed anatomical diagrams of dissected Turok-Han, reminding them that they're in well over their heads here — will do nicely."

The living room was kind of crowded when they finally reached the bottom of the stairs. Like, _standing room only_ -crowded. There were sixteen Potentials now (including Kennedy, who abandoned her spot on the arm of the sofa to come join Willow in the doorway), plus Andrew and Buffy and the Principal. Not Spike, because it was still light out, and Xander was at work, but Dawn was there — apparently she'd decided to skip school today. Willow should...probably talk to her about that. (It was moments like this she really missed Tara, still — she'd been _much_ better at all the _mom_ stuff than Willow.) With herself, Giles, Anya, and Mira, the room was beginning to feel _uncomfortably_ close, and _loud_ , with a dozen different conversations going on all at once.

Mira cleared her throat. "May I have your attention, please?" No one heard her. She sighed. "Bella, if you would...?"

Bella, who was already leaning against a wall drawing something, pulled a face at her, but vanished to reappear on top of the coffee table, making a concussive _crack_ with a snap of her fingers, shouting, "Everyone shut up! Zee wants to talk to you!" and vanishing again...which did silence them all pretty effectively.

"Cheers, love. Hello, everyone," she called out in the moment of shock that followed her girlfriend's demand for their collective attention. She positively sashayed through the crowd to stand on the table herself. "For those of you I haven't yet met, my name is Mirabella Zabini. I believe you're familiar with my companion, Bellatrix. We'll be acting as... _consultants_ , to you and your leaders, assisting with your efforts to thwart the intentions of the so-called _First Evil_."

"Molly," Bellatrix corrected her.

One of the girls looked around to her. "Huh?"

"Oh, you already have a Molly? Why didn't someone say so last night? Prewett, then. Or—" The little demon made some completely unpronounceable sound which was _presumably_ a word in some demon language. " _She who thinks she's hot shite_ , in English. So...I guess Hot Shite works, too." A wave of nervous tittering swept through the crowd. "Hot Shite is _not_ the Dark Itself. Calling it the First Evil is humouring its delusions of grandeur. It's just a dark spirit which uses its access to the collective consciousness of the Dead to fuck with your heads. Your fear and uncertainty and belief in its strength only make it stronger — that's how gods _work_."

"The First is a _god?!"_ one of the Potentials — Willow didn't see _who_ — repeated hysterically. "Oh, my God, we're doomed! We are so, so _doomed!"_

"Hey! Pull yourself together, Dianne!" Kennedy snapped. "We're not _doomed!"_

"Dianne, is it?" Mira said, her voice taking on a softer tone. "Your corp leader is absolutely correct. You are _not_ doomed. Mol— Apologies, Molly — _Prewett_ is not omniscient or omnipotent. She isn't even _tangible_. She has no recourse save to attempt to manipulate mortal beings into doing her bidding."

"What about the Bringers?" Chloe, the quiet, dark-haired girl was the one Kennedy complained about not even being willing to _try_ in their training sessions the most. Willow thought she was just scared. She had to admit, she wasn't a fighter herself, so maybe she was more willing to sympathize with the girl than she should be, but she couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for her. It wasn't like she'd _asked_ to be a Potential Slayer.

"They're possessed," Bellatrix answered. She'd gone back to sketching after demanding that they call the _First Evil_ "Hot Shit", didn't even look up. "If you start thinking it seems like a good idea to carve runes into your flesh or stab your own eyes out, let us know."

"The Harbingers are, so far as I can confirm, a cult of individuals tricked into believing that Prewett will grant them godlike power and knowledge if they simply allow it to possess them. I understand that's part of what you might call its M.O., and easier to accomplish than you might imagine. I'm sure Andrew would be willing to discuss its methods at some point, having been an early victim of its attempts to open the portal to the rallying dimension of the Turok-Han. If you do not invite it into yourself, it has no power to compel you to do its bidding."

"Who the hell are _you_ , anyway?" Rona called out suspiciously. "How do we know you're not one of its pawns trying to trick us right now?"

"I suppose you don't. We're sixth-year students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—" They got a whole _school_ of magic?! _Jealous!_ "—in the Britain of a universe with rather more magic, if I understand the situation correctly. We're on holiday, got lost in that universe with the Turok-Han. We are, admittedly, better suited as natural allies to Prewett than a crusader for the Light like Buffy, but Bella, as you might have noticed, finds her claim to be the 'First Evil' to be highly offensive, and has therefore taken it upon herself to pick a fight with the ephemeral bitch. I believe Buffy and Mister Giles will be willing to attest to that fact?"

She turned expectantly to Buffy, who clearly _hadn't_ been expecting it, and startled slightly. "Um. Yes. They're definitely evil, but—"

"But if we were on the _shitty_ side, I would've just killed your precious Slayer earlier and saved myself the broken ribs," Bella interrupted. "Honestly, why does it matter? Just treat us and everything we tell you with the same degree of suspicion you would _any_ newcomer, and let our contributions speak for themselves."

"They _are_ on our side," Willow found herself saying. Kennedy's head _and_ Mira's snapped around to stare at her in surprise. She wasn't sure how or why she was so certain of that. Maybe just talking to Bella — she somehow couldn't imagine the little demon lying about...anything, really. She just didn't seem to care enough what any of them thought of her and, like Anya had noted earlier, she said what she meant. "The First—" ("Prewett.") "—has been trying to make us believe it's more powerful than it really is, that it knows things that it doesn't. If it really knew what we were doing all the time, we couldn't have surprised it by sending Andrew in wearing a wire, yesterday. Trying to make us underestimate it would be kind of the opposite of that."

Mira raised an eyebrow at her. "Quite. And Bella does, in any case, have a point: feel free to not trust us until we've proven our usefulness to you, if you like. We'll continue advising your leaders and offering a... _darker_ perspective on your little problem, regardless."

"Advising us on _what_?" Kennedy demanded. "Yeah, we saw earlier that maybe your little friend knows what she's doing with a knife — enough to not get herself killed, at least—" Bella snorted. "—but what are _you_ bringing to the table?"

"Hmm, yes, you've seen Bella fight twice now, haven't you? I'll be the first to admit that violence is _not_ my area of expertise — but people _are_. Since Prewett's greatest strength lies in her ability to manipulate others, it _might_ be useful to have someone around who can identify your psychological weaknesses, don't you think? Oh, what am I saying, of course you do," she said, stepping off the table and sauntering across the room to stand _far_ too close to Kennedy, her voice growing lower and quieter as she continued, "You wouldn't be nearly so defensive if you didn't perceive both Bella and myself as threats to your position in this little...organisation — and of course your relationship with dear Willow." _WHAT?!_ "Someone's not used to not being the best, I think, _or_ being in a position of vulnerability. Overcompensating in denial of your fear for your life, perhaps?" She grinned, fingers trailing up Kennedy's free arm to pat her on the cheek. By the time she added, "Just keep telling yourself you're keeping a stiff upper lip for the other girls, I'm sure no one else will notice," she was practically whispering, almost conspiratorially.

" _You_ —" Kennedy began, her usual speaking voice sounding _far_ too loud.

Mira cut her off almost at once, a single finger pressed against Kennedy's lips in a gesture that was so _dramatic_ and _absolutely out of place_ — seriously, people didn't do that in real life! — that it actually shocked her into speechlessness. "Careful now, wouldn't want to undermine your own authority, would you?"

She sauntered back to the coffee table before Kennedy managed to come up with a retort, left her glaring daggers at her back — which would scare _Willow_ , if Kennedy were that furious with _her_ , but Mira didn't seem to care.

"To put it bluntly, I do what Prewett does. I might not be able to tell you precisely what she's going to do next, but I can _absolutely_ identify the various weak spots she's most likely to strike at, point them out to you and thereby make you less vulnerable to such manipulations. I've already addressed the most egregious weaknesses among your leaders. Buffy, Bella, and I will be interviewing the rest of you over the course of the evening, discussing how each of you might best support the effort to thwart Prewett — I'm certain at least some of you will be relieved to know that those of you with no aptitude for fighting will not be required to do so. We'll proceed in the order in which you joined the group here, I think. Kennedy, you were among the first Potentials to arrive in Sunnydale, were you not? If the rest of you could give us the room...?"

As the other Potentials began to clear out, Willow asked, "Do you...want me to stay?"

She thought it might be a good idea to have a cooler head in the room, especially with how angry Kennedy was at Mira at the moment, but Kennedy shook her head. "No. There are some things I want to say to that bitch, and I'm not going to hide behind my girlfriend while I do. I'll come find you when I'm done with them."

Willow wasn't at _all_ certain that her presence would make Mira hesitate to push all of Kennedy's buttons, but then, hadn't she just said Kennedy was worried she was...some kind of threat to their relationship? Maybe Kennedy just didn't want her there so Mira couldn't try to push them apart. Which was ridiculous — Willow could understand why she wouldn't want to admit it — but she'd be the first to admit that emotions weren't always rational like that. She gave her girlfriend an encouraging smile, squeezing her hand just a little tighter before letting go. "Okay. I'll see you later, then."


	12. Is this supposed to be a pep-talk?

"Hey Dawnie, whatcha doin' in here?"

Enjoying a rare moment of peace and quiet. It wasn't like she got much time alone anymore, what with three other girls camping out on her floor. Dawn bit her tongue on actually saying it. Willow didn't deserve her being a total bitch, just because the rest of them were all obsessed with their oh-so-special _potential_ — never mind that _she_ could beat half of them in a sword fight.

"Just reading." Studying Enochian, actually. Even if Buffy didn't think she could help with anything, she was still going to find _something_ she could do. You didn't have to have some magic or mystical _destiny_ to be _helpful_. Giles didn't. Neither did Xander. And Willow wasn't even _always_ a witch, she'd told Dawn before that she started learning magic when she was about Dawn's age. "What's up?"

"Oh, Mira wants to talk to you, too."

" _What_? Why? I'm not a Potential."

"No, but you live here. You're Buffy's sister. You're as much a part of this fight as anyone. And, well..."

"Well _what?"_

"Well, _I_ think you have as much potential as any of them. I mean, we're not planning on Buffy _or_ Faith dying, so what does it matter if they _could_ become the Slayer? And I've seen you practicing with them. Kennedy says you're better than a lot of them. And experience counts for a lot in this business — when me and Xander first started helping Buffy, neither one of us would've thought _we_ could stake a vampire, but hey, we did alright, while she was...gone."

No, they hadn't. Sure, they'd staked a few vampires, but they hadn't been alright _at all_. She knew that wasn't Willow's point, though. "I guess. Are they still in the living room?"

"No, they moved to Buffy's room when people started looking for places to eat dinner. Did you, um, remember to eat?"

No. Not that it was Willow's job to make sure she did. "I will, promise."

"Will you promise to go to school tomorrow, too?"

That _also_ wasn't Willow's job to ride her butt over. "What's the point, Willow?"

"Well, you know, if the world _doesn't_ end — and, I mean, we have a pretty good track record with apocalypses — you are still going to want to go to college, right? See more of the world than just _Sunnydale_?"

Dawn blinked at her. That was practically optimistic, compared to the way everyone had been acting lately. "You really think Mira and Bella can help, don't you?"

Not that Dawn _didn't_ — she'd actually watched Buffy's fight with Bella, and she had to say, she thought the kid might actually be better than her. Not _stronger_ , obviously, but almost as quick, and definitely better trained. She believed her when she said she'd been doing this for thirteen years — so, since she was _three_ — which was almost twice as long Buffy had even known she was the Slayer. And that wasn't counting however long she and Mira spent in hell fighting the Turok-Han. Three good fighters (or four, if they could find Faith) against an army was kind of a major improvement over just Buffy and Spike (and maybe Faith). They hadn't talked _much_ , but she'd gotten the impression last night that she and Mira were a _lot_ more capable of handling themselves than anyone else in the house except maybe Spike, Anya, and Giles.

If nothing else, no one would let _Dawn_ go "on holiday" to another universe with one of her friends from school. She hadn't even been allowed to go to the _Magic Box_ without telling someone where she was going, _and_ when she'd be back! (And then someone would usually offer to walk with her, and she couldn't tell them _no_ , even if she really just wanted to get away from them for a while.) Obviously she wasn't entirely sure anyone had _let_ the two demon girls come here, but that was kind of the point — they were here anyway, which suggested a level of competence no one else in the house possessed. Hell, she wasn't sure _Buffy_ would be able to handle organizing a trip to _England_ , let alone another _dimension_. (Or, you know, _a war_ — grand speeches about being an army aside, it was _so_ obvious they were in over their heads, it wasn't even _funny_.)

And Mira putting Kennedy in her place earlier was a thing of beauty. Seriously, Dawn didn't care _how_ evil the demon was, Kennedy just...had this way of getting under her skin — and _not_ just because she and Willow were kind of a thing now and Dawn wasn't ready to see Willow with anyone but Tara. She _wanted_ to be happy for her, she really did, but Kennedy was just— Dawn _really_ hoped she was just a rebound...

Actually, Bella popping out of nowhere and threatening to cut her throat earlier was also pretty great, but Dawn _definitely_ wasn't going to admit _that_. Not even to Chloe, and they'd spent over an hour earlier bonding over how terrible Willow's new girlfriend was — calling her _maggot_ just because she wasn't good at all that pseudo- martial arts crap, honestly! She was just so _mean_! And _spoiled_ , too. _She_ was the one who decided she and Willow should have their own room, when no one else had any privacy these days. Dawn didn't know how Willow could not see it.

But whatever. Not her relationship, not her business. ( _Just keep telling yourself that, Dawn._ ) She wasn't going to go sticking her nose in and trying to break them up or whatever. (If she was lucky, Mira would do it for her.)

Willow gave her a tiny, trying-not-to-seem-too-hopeful smile. "Yeah, Dawnie, I do. I mean, Bella was right, we can't let the– _Hot Shit_ keep us down." She giggled nervously at her own nerve, calling the Big Bad something so ridiculous and insulting, even if Bella had done it first. "Anyway, Spike and Xander are here now too, we're gonna have a pow-wow when you're done talking to Mira and Buffy."

"Right, so, hurry up so you can get to it. I get it."

She didn't realize how _bitter_ that sounded until Willow's eyes widened a little in surprise. "That's not what I meant! Just, you know, I wanted you to know what was going on," she explained, sounding almost hurt.

Great. Just great. "Yeah, I know, I'm sorry, Willow. That's not what I meant, either. I...probably should go, though. Get it over with."

Willow was still sitting on the edge of the bed, worrying her lower lip with her teeth when Dawn slipped out of the room.

The door to Buffy's room was open, but she tapped on it anyway, just to avoid startling any of them. "Hey, guys. Willow said you wanted to talk to me about something?"

"What? Oh, yes, Dawn, come in, have a seat anywhere," Mira said. She herself was sitting cross-legged on the bed, scribbling something in a notebook, presumably notes on her conversations with the others, earlier.

Buffy and Bella were sitting on the floor surrounded by... "What _are_ those?" Obviously they were whatever Bella had been drawing, when they'd all been down in the living room, and equally obviously, they were pictures of dissected people, like in an anatomy textbook (except drawn on lined paper, with a pencil), but there were... They didn't look quite right, somehow, Dawn just didn't know enough about human bodies to say _how_.

"Turok-Han," Bella said, grinning up at her. "They're a little different than your normal vampires. I'm pretty sure they were designed specifically as soldiers, maybe using goblins as a starting point — their anatomy is more goblin than human, generally speaking. But they definitely aren't humans who were turned, like Spike. They're something completely different. Granted, they kind of look the same as when your vampires go all weird-faced, but normal vampires don't have the same sort of physical redundancies. Well, in my universe they don't, I haven't had a chance to dissect one of the local ones yet. See here, these muscle groups, for example, you see them along the length of each long-bone, connecting it to a slightly flexible, cartilaginous 'plate' that's embedded on the dorsal side of each limb, kind of like the muscles between your radius and ulna. The plates act as natural shock-absorbers, makes it harder to break their bones, you may've noticed. But there's no reason for there to be so many different little bundles of muscles and attachment points, rather than an even distribution across the length of the joint.

" _Those_ seem completely useless, _unless_ the bone actually _is_ broken. The plates are more flexible, don't break nearly as easily, so if you _do_ manage to break their legs or whatever, they allow the Fiend to hold the bone in its anatomical position, maintaining some degree of mobility, giving it a chance to allow its stupid-fast healing factor to take effect, and generally making it a real pain in the arse to keep them down. Same deal with these extra tendons around the knees and ankles. The bones in general are heavier, denser, with a smaller medullary cavity." She pulled her bone knife out of nowhere and flipped it around to offer Dawn the handle. "I don't have a human tibia on hand for comparison, obviously, but—"

"That's— You made that out of one of... _them_?" Buffy asked, sounding both awed and horrified.

As was Dawn. Looking closer at the weapon, it was easy to see it was carved with some kind of runes she didn't recognize along its length, the handle wrapped in leather that she _sincerely_ hoped wasn't Turok-Han skin. It was slightly longer than her forearm and wickedly sharp, but she couldn't honestly say whether it seemed any heavier than a human bone, she'd never _held_ a human bone before! Why would she have?! She handed this one back quickly, trying not to make an audible _eugh_ sound.

"Yes, Bella can be very crafty when she puts her mind to it," Mira noted absently.

"It's more effective against them than steel. They have some kind of magical resistance to damage with even an enchanted blade, stabbing _or_ cutting. Not that you _can't_ , it just takes about twice as much effort to mark them as it should. I didn't really have anything else on me to check whether that's _all_ weapons or just steel, but stabbing them with their own bones is _much_ easier. Still, I'd recommend going under the ribs rather than trying to crack the sternum. Their diaphragm muscles are also sturdier than a human's, or presumably a vampire's, but still only muscle. The heart is actually located on the midline of the body, rather than on the left side, and the ribs are thicker than a human's, so it's harder to puncture a lung through the intercostal spaces. The vertebral spines also have cartilage plates, though those are more like overlapping scales to maintain mobility. Their dentition and digestive systems suggest they're obligate carnivores, like goblins, but I'm _guessing_ they eat flesh as well as drinking blood. They certainly try to take bites out of you as though they're accustomed to _eating_ , and you'll notice the teeth aren't really positioned to be a good biting-sucking apparatus.

"Their clotting factor is _very_ high — amputating a limb without cauterisation or a tourniquet would kill practically any other being I can think of, but not these things — and the amount of blood they can lose before they expire is much greater than a human. They don't lose consciousness or vigor first, either, just keep fighting full out until, suddenly, dead. The major veins and arteries are located deeper than in humans, and have a smaller carrying volume. There are _more_ of them, but I wouldn't try stabbing them in the femoral artery or anything like that, because there really isn't an equivalent. Trying to wear them down or exhaust their healing abilities also isn't worth it. The pain doesn't seem to bother them, and their stamina is fucking annoying — and this is coming from _me_." Dawn snorted at the offended little frown on the demon's face.

"Honestly, calling these things _vampires_ is kind of ridiculous, they're not even that _similar_ , really. At _all_. I presume the confusion is due to it being similarly difficult to kill them _without_ destroying the heart and removing the head from the body. Though the fact that they turn into dust as soon as you kill them in this universe is weird. Maybe some sort of self-destruct mechanism, stop you getting this sort of information on them since you can't recover their bodies?" She shrugged. "I mean, it _would_ be much more difficult to vivisect one, I guess, but probably doable, especially with a team. The fact that it _is_ so difficult to kill them means you can do a lot of damage before they actually _die_ , and it's not like they can actually _regrow limbs_. They might be able to reattach them if they did it quickly enough, I guess, but I didn't let them try. I mean, what's the point of cutting their legs off if you just let them have them back?"

"You... You _cut their legs off_?"

"Well, they kept healing when I just _broke_ them. And it's kind of hard to experiment on them when they keep trying to kill you and/or escape. Why are you acting like that's a bad thing? How do _you_ learn how to kill things?"

"I... Books?" Buffy said, still horrified.

"Oh, silly me. How did you think _people who write books_ learn how to kill things?" the demon asked, casting a pointed glance at the drawings surrounding them.

"Don't even pretend you don't know normal people think the idea of vivisection is beyond the pale, Bella."

"But she's _not_ a normal person! She's the _Slayer_ , killing monsters is her _job_ — which is an _amazing_ job, by the way, even better than _vengeance demon_ — and they're horrifying killing machines, I fail to see how taking them apart to see how they work isn't entirely reasonable."

"Yes, because _you're_ a horrifying killing machine."

"Flattery will get you everywhere. But, I don't get it."

Mira sighed, shuffling her notes back into a pile. "I know. Go teach Liam and Robin how to execute those things. And take Buffy with you."

"What? Why?" Buffy objected immediately.

The demon gave her a look which said more clearly than words, _you're an idiot_. "Because in my experience, people tend to be more honest with strangers than their judgmental older sisters. Please leave."

"I'm not _judgmental!_ You know you can tell me anything, right, Dawnie?"

Dawn nodded and gave her a noncommittal _uh-huh_ sort of hum, because that was really the only right answer to that question — but Mira didn't drop the _you're an idiot_ look, and after a moment, Buffy's expression collapsed into one of defeat. Dawn bit the inside of her lip, trying not to feel bad about that. It wasn't _her_ fault Buffy was never around. Why _would_ she think her big sister would be okay with hearing her critiques of this whole _army_ business, if she wasn't even okay knowing that Dawn didn't want to talk about it in front of her?

"Come on, there's really no point arguing with her," Bella informed Buffy, sweeping her drawings into a loose sheaf and popping to her feet. "Besides, we should probably find something to eat, anyway."

"You— You want to eat," Buffy stuttered, looking a little sick at the idea. "After talking about... _that_."

"Er...yes? I mean, I guess. But there's no reason we can't eat and talk to the boys at the same time, is there?" she wondered, wandering out into the hall.

"Dawn, are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Buffy asked.

But Mira was right, it would be easier to talk about everyone else — especially Buffy — without her sitting right there. "No, I'll be fine. You'd better go stop Bella demonstrating how to dissect Kennedy, or something."

"Okay, if you're sure. If you need anything, just yell."

"O _kay_ , Buffy. But we're just _talking_ , I'll be _fine_."

She still hesitated to go. After a second or two, Mira clicked her tongue impatiently. "You can send Liam up to keep an eye on us, if you really feel it's necessary, but I honestly don't see why you're so concerned. I'm not going to hurt your baby sister."

"No," Buffy snapped, "I'm not sure I trust you with Spike, either! Just know if you _do_ hurt her, you're dead. Got it?"

"Yes, Buffy, dear, you're very scary. Consider me ever so threatened. Please. Leave."

The sarcasm _almost_ made her _stay_ , Dawn could see it, but after another moment she did go, probably because there was a short, startled scream from somewhere downstairs which demanded the Slayer's attention. Probably Bella sneaking up on Andrew.

"Right, then. Have a seat, Dawn," Mira offered, gesturing to the other end of the bed. Dawn took the chair at the desk instead. "Do you know why you're here? why I waited to talk to you last?"

"Um, no? I mean, I guess you want me to tell you about everyone else, and Buffy and stuff, right? But I don't know why I'm last."

"Because, Dawn, you've been here from the beginning, and they ignore you. I've seen you, always watching on the edges of the group, excluded from their little army, but living in the very heart of it. You know more about these people — your sister and her friends — and what makes them tick than any of them are likely to admit about themselves, or in some cases are self-aware enough to realise. You're the same age as the Potentials, and a much more sympathetic ear than Buffy or Rupert or any of the adults. As such, I feel confident that at least _some_ of them have chosen to confide in you as well, likely those who are least confident in their own abilities and those of the Slayer to defend you all. _You_ can provide an invaluable perspective not only on the relationships between Buffy and her allies, but also those surrounding the most vulnerable of the Potentials. I'm speaking to you last because I want to see how _my_ observations of the household and its various members line up with _yours_."

Oh. That was...not what Dawn had been expecting. At _all_. Granted, she hadn't expected Mira to admit that she was last because she was an afterthought or something, but she _had_ thought that was the reason, and she'd kind of thought she just wanted to make sure Dawn wasn't going to let _Hot Shit_ convince her to murder Buffy for never listening to her, or whatever. "So...this isn't really about _me_."

"Oh, it is. But you don't strike me as the fragile, easy to manipulate sort. Quite the opposite, in fact. You know your sister loves you — she would die for you, and _has_ , or so I hear. You know Liam and Willow would kill for you, if your life were in danger — Willow, by the way, still feels _enormously_ guilty about endangering you in the throes of her dark-magic addiction. You think that no one in this little family notices you or appreciates you, though you'd be surprised how many of them expressed some degree of concern for you when I asked who among you they considered the most likely target for Prewett's attentions. Xander and Liam, in particular. Even Anya said you don't get nearly the attention you deserve — though, she mentioned it in reference to you developing a habit of kleptomania some time ago."

Dawn winced. She wasn't proud of that period in her life. "I don't steal anymore. I...learned my lesson about that."

"I'm not judging. I've done my own share of rather embarrassing things in pursuit of attention and acceptance." Somehow, Dawn found that hard to believe. "No, now you put your energy into becoming someone they'll eventually find absolutely indispensable, which is a rather admirable approach to the problem. Mature, and indicative of a degree of self-reliance that suggests you are more than capable of holding your own against any efforts Prewett might make to convince you to betray them. You are far stronger than they give you credit for — and so I'm far more interested in what you've seen, the observations and analyses you've made, than your resentment of the time Buffy spends on the Potentials, or your jealousy over Willow and related dislike of Kennedy, or the complexities of your relationship with Rupert, given his history with your family."

A pained grimace tugged at her lips. _Complicated_ was one word for her "relationship" with Giles. He'd been kind of like a father to Buffy and kind of her too because of that. Especially after Mom died, but then... Well, it was _especially_ complicated since he'd kind of screwed up, as far as she was concerned, just _leaving_ like he did, forcing Buffy to try to take care of the rest of them when she could barely take care of herself. Dawn wasn't sure she would ever really be able to forgive him for that. (It was like Dad all over again...) But on the other hand, he more than anyone saw what she was trying to do, studying all his old magic books and stuff, so...yeah.

"Yes, your home has been taken over by a score of perfect strangers, and Willow mentioned that you were very close to Tara. Losing her so soon after the trauma of losing Buffy and her subsequent resurrection must have been incredibly painful. I understand you've only been human for two years or so, despite memories to the contrary, that your father is out of the picture, and that you still hold yourself accountable, to some degree, for Buffy's death and the pain she's suffered in being revived."

Oh. Oh, _that_ hurt. She tried not to think about any of that, most of the time. It was _true_ , of course, but— She wondered who had thought it was a good idea to tell the demon _that_. Yeah, they were supposed to be telling her all their weaknesses, but she didn't really think they _would_. Not like... Not like that. (She was betting it was Spike, stupid, overly-protective vampire — she still hadn't totally forgiven _him_ for hurting her sister either, even if Buffy had.)

"But you're clearly coping with everything that's been going on around here far better than some people I could name. So unless you think there's a significant danger of Prewett attempting to turn you...?"

"There was— When it first showed up, it...pretended to be my mom. It pretended something was trying to stop her from talking to me, made me hear things and see things and wreck the house, and...I tried to exorcise it. It... I thought it worked, that it was really my mom talking to me, when everything _stopped_. And she told me that...that when things got bad, Buffy wouldn't be there for me. That she'd...choose someone else. Or something else. Not me."

"And you believed it," Mira said softly. It wasn't a question. Dawn nodded anyway, trying not to feel too guilty for letting it get to her, take her in and make her doubt, but... "Do you know why?"

"No. Maybe. Do you mean, why it said _that_ , or why it was trying to get to me?"

"I think you know both."

Dawn hesitated, but... Well, she'd already told her the worst of it, hadn't she? "It...wanted me to turn on Buffy, to not trust her when I need her the most, and probably when she needs me, too. And..."

"And it told you those things specifically because that's what you fear most, that your sister doesn't care about you, anymore. That she'll abandon you again."

"Yeah," Dawn admitted, trying not to sniffle. "Maybe a little. It's just— It _was_ my fault she died, and I hate that, and then Willow dragged her out of heaven to take care of us, and that's even _worse_ , and... And I can't stand the thought of losing her again, even though it's like she's already not even there so much, just completely wrapped up with everything else— I know it's important, the Potentials, and protecting them, and everything, but..." She took a deep breath, eyes rolled up toward the ceiling, blinking furiously — she _wasn't_ going to cry! She _wasn't!_

"It's okay, you know. Wanting selfish things, sometimes. Like for your sister to put your happiness above everyone else. That's not wrong. But... You know she didn't want to leave you, before. I know you do. Sacrificing herself _was_ choosing you — choosing to save you, because your life is more important to her than her own."

Yeah, that was what Tara had said, too. "I know," she said, annoyed at how small and thin her voice sounded. "It's just..." She didn't believe it, really, that was all. She knew it was true, that Buffy would say it was, but she hid things from Dawn all the time. And last time, saving Dawn and saving _everyone else_ were the same thing — what if, next time, they weren't? What if she could only save Dawn or Spike? Dawn or Willow and Xander? Dawn or the _entire world?_

"Dawn, I know you don't know me very well, and I haven't been around here very long at all, but you should believe me when I tell you that Buffy will _always_ choose you. _You_ are her reason for living, for fighting. There's no point to her life, no point to the _world_ , if you're not alive to enjoy it."

"Are— How would _you_ know? You said it yourself, you just got here, and no matter how shrink-like you talk, you're just a kid like me, really." She wanted that to sound angrier, like _mind your own business_ , but...she also kind of wanted Mira to convince her that she _should_ believe her, because, well, she _wanted_ to believe her.

"Mmm, yes, we are the same age, that's true. But in my world, sixteen is practically an adult. Bella's family are trying to arrange a marriage for her already, even. And, well, neither of us were ever really _children_." She gave Dawn a teasing grin. "And you aren't nearly as much of a child as everyone acts like you are, either, are you? As for Buffy... It's...not uncommon, you know, for soldiers to fight not to protect their country or an ideal, but their family, a lover, a child. Someone they care about. Someone who makes the stakes _real_ for them."

" _But?"_ Because Dawn couldn't help kind of hearing a _but_ , there. Like that wasn't the _actual_ reason she was so sure she was Buffy's...whatever.

"But, well, that's not really why I think Buffy is living for you. She reminds me of Bella in a lot of ways."

"Really," Dawn said, as flatly sarcastic as possible. "I have to say, I don't see the resemblance."

Bella obviously _liked_ fighting and killing and starting shit with people for no reason at all. Buffy _didn't_ , even if she didn't really have a lot of ways to solve problems _other_ than with the pointy end of a stake. And Bella didn't really seem to take anything seriously. Well, she was serious about, like, _this is how you kill a Turok-Han_ , but her idea of a speech rallying them against the First was, _okay, everyone, we're calling the bitch Hot Shit from now on, agreed? And it shouldn't be any trouble at all to avert an apocalypse while we're on vacation, sure, why not?_ not _We're an army now, and we're going to take the fight to it._ Not to mention, if Buffy _weren't_ the Slayer, she would be a Hospitality and Tourism major, or something, and spend her weekends at the mall putting together cute outfits and worrying about if the hot guy in her class had noticed her. She _tried_ to be a girly-girl even though she _was_ the Slayer. And since Bella _wasn't_ , and she presumably _chose_ to spend all her time studying magic and learning how to kill monsters, they were clearly _very_ different types of people. Plus, Buffy would never be caught dead naked in front of strangers _or_ covered in as much blood and filth as Bella had been when she first showed up out of nowhere in the living room — at least in _that_ way, she was a lot more like Mira.

"Well, not _physically_ , obviously. But they both... They're both driven by duty, I suppose you could say. And defined by their work. Buffy can't escape her mission as the Slayer no matter how much she wants to, and Bella _is_ the First Daughter of the House of Black, taking care of the children of the House is who she is. She resents it tying her down, but it gives direction and structure to her life which she _desperately_ needs. Neither of them care much for their own safety, compared to those they're responsible for. And Bella's sisters are the most important people in her life, too."

"She has sisters?" Somehow Dawn found that...hard to imagine. Actually, the idea of demons having families in general was kind of weird. Even demons who were teenagers, and still in school. (Which was itself kind of weird, when she thought about it.) Kind of made her wonder if all the demons they'd fought and killed had families and lives...and she kind of didn't like to. That was... _No, Dawn, demons aren't_ people _, period._ She couldn't stop herself from asking, though, "Are they all...like her?"

Mira giggled. "No. Decidedly not. The two of us aren't anything like representative of our universe as a whole, you know. Dedicating yourself to a god of chaos and being apprenticed to a serial killer isn't _normal_ where we come from. Andromeda and Narcissa are...considerably more _sane_ than Bella. And _much_ less violent. On a scale of the House of Black, of course — the entire family's a bit cracked, honestly. All of them are into illegal dark magic, doing human sacrifice rituals like it's still the Sixteen Hundreds, and murdering their political rivals, and so on. But Bella's spent her entire life trying to shelter them from the worst of their parents' abuses, so they're not nearly as _off_ as she is.

"Andromeda is thirteen. She's a bit like you, always blending into the background, overshadowed by Bella, and still trying to figure out who _she_ is. Growing up with the Blacks, learning to deal with normal people can be a bit difficult. And Narcissa is six, still a baby in Bella's eyes, but she's growing up terrifyingly quickly. Bella forgets, I think, that she was only a few months older than Cissy is now when she sacrificed her humanity."

"She did _what_ , now?!"

"Oh, yes. You don't gain power of the sort Bella holds without _some_ cost to yourself. She would tell you that it was nothing, giving up all the shite parts of being human — fear and pain and guilt — in exchange for the power to resist her father's control and protect little Andromeda. She doesn't care that she also gave up love and beauty, and the ability to express herself and empathise with other people, or that she sold her soul quite literally, or that she's now bound to serve Eris's interests for the rest of her life. Possibly _beyond_ _death_ , too, I'm not sure. It's all worth it because she would do _anything_ to protect Meda and Cissy.

"And _that's_ how Buffy reminds me of her. Because saving the world might be her responsibility, but she's _doing_ it for _you_." She gave Dawn a sad, twisted little half-smile. "She's not alive today because of Willow and Xander, you know. She doesn't want to hurt them, that's true, but they're not worth living for, when she could seek out another hero's death for herself and find her way back to her heaven. You are. And living for someone is a hell of a lot harder than dying for them."

"That's..."

"Kind of heavy, I know. But it's true. Buffy loves you. She's always going to choose you. Prewett might be able to give name to your deepest fears, sow doubt in you, but she can't change that. And I know you know it."

Yeah, she did, but it was still kind of nice to hear someone else say it. Even if she was some creepy teenage demon wannabe shrink. _Damn it, Dawn, don't cry!_ "So, um," she said, sniffing and trying to change the subject. "What did you want— Who did you want to ask me about?"

Mira gave her a brilliant grin. "Well, given that Prewett's already taken a few stabs at Liam and Robin and been rebuffed, I expect she'll go after an easier target next time. One which might affect morale, even if they're not of any particular strategic value to the organisation as a whole."

A cold wave of fear washed over Dawn. "You mean one of the Potentials."

The demon's grin didn't falter. "Just so. What can you tell me about Chloe?"


	13. Resources Yet Untapped

Buffy wasn't really sure how she felt about Mirabella Zabini, but she was leaning toward _not liking_ her. Mostly because it was too easy to like her. She was too familiar, too quickly, she had to be doing it on purpose somehow. Made her not _want_ to trust her.

And it wasn't just _Buffy_ , sitting with her talking to the Potentials all afternoon, and even Willow and Xander and Giles and Spike, it'd become clear very quickly that she had this way of being all _sympathetic_ and _understanding_ that made it _way_ too easy for _all_ of them to talk to her. Giles seemed a little more guarded, but that was probably just because he'd seen too many things like her before. He'd still told her how much it hurt, losing the other Watchers, and admitted he was scared, that he didn't know how they were going to get through this one.

It had been...demoralizing, realizing that _everyone_ felt that way, at least a little bit.

No matter how much she didn't like to agree with Kennedy, she kind of thought Willow's new girlfriend was right: Mira was dangerous, and might be doing them more harm than good.

Though, watching Spike and Kennedy argue the point was, she had to admit, kind of entertaining. (No matter how weird and unnerving and making-Buffy-jealous- _y_ it was to see Spike defending this random demon who'd apparently managed to win him over as easily as anyone else.)

The Potentials (and Andrew) were inside watching Mulan ("for becoming-total-badasses montage inspiration") and trying to pretend that they _weren't_ in mortal danger, so the rest of them — Buffy, Spike, Willow and Kennedy, Xander and Anya, Robin, Giles, and the terrifying little "Shadow Girl" — had taken their hot dogs and mac'n'cheese out to the back porch. (That was another problem, they hadn't had endless amounts of cash before the whole Firstly _devouring_ started, they didn't have the money to _feed_ twenty-odd people, especially not _indefinitely_.) Not like an organized sort of decision, just...they'd all kind of ended up out here. They were planning on having a meeting eventually, after Mirabella was done talking to Dawn, but Buffy was pretty sure the rest of them just didn't want to listen to the girls singing _I'll Make a Man Out of You_ , either. ( _No pressure, Buff_.)

Giles was weirdly _not_ grossed out by the idea of the shadow demon _butchering_ Turok-Han to see how they worked and learn how to kill them more efficiently. The two of them were sort of huddled together with Robin discussing her drawings with an enthusiasm Buffy actually found a little off-putting. Yes, she killed things all the time, but... Maybe it was the whole...cutting up bodies part that was putting her off. The things _she_ killed usually just... _poofed_. No blood or corpses or anything. Well, that and Buffy _really_ didn't like having someone around she wasn't sure she could take in a fight. Sure, she'd been holding back earlier, but she _knew_ the shadow demon was, too. And not just because she could have used magic — she really _could_ have wrecked Buffy's knee if she wanted to, at the _very_ least, and that had just been...well, _skill_.

It'd been a long time since she'd actually fought someone who was _better_ than her. Like, better trained. Not...since Riley left, probably. But she'd _trusted_ Riley. She _didn't_ trust Bellatrix.

Xander and Anya were doing their whole bickering/worried-about-you thing, of course. Anya had told Xander that she'd spent the afternoon talking to Bella, Giles, and Willow about demon things, which Xander didn't like, and Anya was still Anya. Buffy wasn't sure, but she _thought_ something might've happened when Anya took him home last night. Like, a maybe getting back together sort of something? But that just meant Anya was going to be _more_ jealous and weird about him even looking at another girl. Like the one who'd spent twenty minutes earlier, talking him into being _brutally_ honest about what he thought their chances were to make it through this thing alive. (Spoiler alert: no. He didn't want to admit it, but he believed, as much as anyone else, that they were _completely screwed_.)

Either way, they were too wrapped up in their own _whatever_ to take sides between Spike and Kennedy, and Willow _wouldn't_ , because (Buffy could tell) she actually _liked_ their visitors, and Buffy didn't want to either, because she somehow didn't think Spike would take it well if she were to jump in on Kennedy's side, and they kind of needed him, since he was the only other person around who was strong enough to actually _fight_ an Ubervamp.

"You know what I think, luv?" Spike said, smirking at her with a confidence Buffy hadn't seen in him in...a while. And he was wearing that tight black tee-shirt again, rather than his weirdly Giles-ish sweater things. No matter how much she _definitely_ didn't approve of him biting _or_ sleeping with _demon jailbait_ , she couldn't deny he seemed more... _Spike_ today, and less... She didn't even know, really. _Pathetic_? "I think you're jealous."

"Why the hell would I be jealous of you? Because you screwed some slutty, condescending demon bitch? Willow's fucking _great!"_ Willow went _very_ pink.

"Oh, tell yourself you hate that she doesn't give you the respect you think you deserve all you like, _Number Three_ , but don't even pretend she doesn't make your knickers wet with that coy, knowing little smirk. _Ooh_ , strike a _nerve_ , did I?" he added, as Kennedy's face grew even redder than Willow's. "But no, you're not jealous of _me_ , you just _hate_ that she's strolled in and made a place for herself overnight, got all your little wannabe Slayer friends looking up to her already, when you've been trying to do the same for weeks."

"No, I _hate_ that she just turns up out of nowhere and has you eating out of her hand and telling her all your secrets, and suddenly we're going to start taking her advice on shit! I don't trust her, and I don't think any of you should, either! I'm surprised Buffy was stupid enough to leave her alone with Dawn!"

Buffy was too, a little bit. But she really didn't like Kennedy's tone, there. She was about to say as much when Bella cut in, calling over from where she was letting Giles have a closer look at her bone knife. "Do yourself a favour, Number Three: let it go. Manipulating people is not my thing, not by a _long_ shot, but even I can tell you Zee wouldn't have targeted you earlier if the little girls didn't look up to you. If she demonstrates she's superior to _you_ , they'll realise she's superior to _them_ , too. Teenage girls are very hierarchical like that. Actually, humans in general are kind of like that. But it's not personal."

"That's very insightful of you, Bella," the subject of the argument noted. Buffy hadn't noticed her and Dawn arriving at the back door. She couldn't help wondering how much of that she'd overheard.

"Yeah, well, it _is_ pretty much the same thing you tried to do to me, remember, in first year when everyone was being fucking weird and trying to befriend me because politics. Except I had no idea what was going on and just wanted you all to leave me alone."

"Yes, I do recall. I still can't believe Tom let you hide in his rooms for an entire week."

"I _might_ have threatened to kill the idiot children if he made me talk to them. Speaking of which...?"

"Yes, yes. So, before we discuss my concerns, does anyone else have any business to address?"

"I have something," Willow piped up. "Giles, is there any, you know, _non_ -magic way we could try to get in touch with any of those maybe potential allies? Like, I dunno, put out a notice on the web, or like, an S.O.S. or something?"

Wait, " _Maybe potential allies?_ " Buffy repeated. "Who? Why didn't you..."

"As I told Willow and Anya earlier, I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. And I'm afraid not. Any public announcement of our distress would be as easily intercepted by our enemies as our friends. And those few contacts we have managed to re-establish are quite overwhelmed with their own local trouble-makers at the moment — the First's awakening seems to be part of a larger pattern of magical disturbances throughout the world."

"Yeah, okay, but are these like _apocalyptic army of Neanderthal-vamps sweeping life from the face of the Earth in a tide of blood and evil, yadda yadda_ trouble-makers? I mean, could we get them to come help anyway, and then deal with their problems _after_ we take care of Hot Shit?"

"How many times have you guys averted the apocalypse, now, Xander?" Dawn asked, drawing Buffy's attention to the fact that she was still there. Which she really shouldn't be, it was— She shouldn't have to worry about this stuff. It wasn't her job! "And how many times would you have let our apocalypse happen to go help someone else stop another one?"

"Well, _yeah_ , but _priorities_ , Dawnie!"

"If we're arguing about _priorities,_ we should probably do what Bella said — fill the school basement with concrete, I mean — and go help some of _them_ , really," Anya admitted. Xander gaped at her — clearly he'd never thought of that, either, any more than Buffy had. "I mean, the _biggest_ threat is it manages to get someone to open the portal, right? What's the worst it can do without its army?"

"No," Buffy said firmly. "We're not doing that."

Before she could move on to sending Dawn back inside, Xander got over his shock. "What? Why not? I think that's a _great_ idea. I mean I'll probably get fired, but I can get a truckload of cement in there by morning, for sure."

"Not the cement — though, we should find a way to do it that _doesn't_ get you fired—" Xander was really the only one of them with a _job_ at the moment. So, the only person putting food on the table. "I mean we're not leaving. And we can't blame anyone else holding their own forts, either. Which means we can't count on anyone else coming to help us out."

"What about Faith?" Dawn suggested. "Why isn't she here?"

"She's in _jail_ , Dawnie. Even if she wanted to help us, we can't just _break her out_."

"Faith?" Robin muttered in Buffy's ear. She startled — how had she not noticed him move?

"She's also a Slayer. Long story, but, um. My heart stopped once, another Slayer was activated. But Faith has...issues. Emotionally. Her coming here is _not_ a good idea, trust me," she filled him in him quietly...at the same time Bella, smirking broadly, said, "I can do that. I mean, it's just a muggle prison, right? No soul-sucking monsters, or anything like that?"

What the hell kind of prisons did they have in _Bellatrix's_ dimension?! "Faith turned herself in. She's out of the fight," Buffy said firmly.

"Okay, clarify something for me, here, Summers: are we treating this like a potentially world-ending threat or not?"

"Are you actually an idiot?" Kennedy snapped. "Of _course_ this is potentially world-ending threat!"

"O... _kay_? So, why is hiding in a muggle prison and just sitting this one out an option? I mean, she has the same abilities as Buffy, right? Why aren't we drafting her?"

"Yes, she does," Buffy admitted. "But we don't _want_ her here, because every time she shows up she makes things _worse_."

Willow and Giles wavered, but Xander backed her up. "It's true. Whether it's ravaging my innocent body, or stealing Buffy's life, or siding with the Demon Mayor and killing innocent bystanders, you can always count on Faith Lehane to make a bad situation worse. And since we're already at apocalypse defcon-two, I'm gonna vote _no_ on breaking her out of jail to 'help'."

"I still think she could _actually_ help. I mean, she turned herself in, right? She has to be trying to, you know, turn over a new leaf, or whatever."

"I said _no_ , Dawn. Why don't you go back inside? The other girls are watching a movie, you could—"

Dawn stalked across the porch to glare at Buffy from just a few inches away. "I could _what_ , Buffy? Go watch Disney movies and pretend this is just one long sleepover? _No_. I don't care if you don't want me anywhere near anything important, I'm older now than you were when you started being the Slayer, and I might not have super powers, but neither do Xander and Giles, and I've been doing research for _years_ now — I know what we're up against, and I'm not going to go hide with the rest of the scared little girls who came looking for you to _protect_ them!"

Buffy felt herself stiffen as the side-conversations around them grew silent, every eye on the pair of them. Mirabella, she could see, was wearing a smug smirk, the bitch. Robin reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder, but Buffy shrugged him off. "Dawn..." she began, entirely uncertain what to say next.

Because it was true. She had been younger than Dawn when she started patrolling, and while Xander and Giles were bigger and stronger than Dawn _now_ , Xander and Willow had been tagging along helping her since they were the same age, well before Willow started practicing magic, or anything.

"No, Buffy. This is important, and I'm part of it. You can't make me pretend I don't know that or that I don't care, and you can't make me leave. So I'm staying."

And Buffy still had no idea what to say. After a few more seconds of angry-baby-sister-staring-contest glaring — were there tears in her eyes? what did she— did she really think Buffy didn't want her to— she just wanted to keep her _safe_! — Robin's hand returned to her shoulder.

"Maybe this is something you two should talk about in private."

"No, Principal Wood, there's nothing to talk about. Does anyone else have anything they want to tell everyone?" she asked louder, spinning away to face everyone else, still staring at them. "Any ideas, or– or... C'mon, guys, help me out, here!"

"I think we should try to do a spell," Willow said, completely blindsiding Buffy. She'd been totally _avoiding_ doing magic, for _weeks_ now. "A, um," she stuttered, as everyone turned to look at her instead. "I've been talking to Bella and Mira and I had an idea about— You know how everyone's been kinda depressed and, like, we're gonna lose no matter what? Well, I want to try— They call it a blood ward, kind of a way to bind us all together, help support each other and keep the bad juju away, you know?"

"Are you sure, Willow?" Giles said, fixing her with a serious face of seriousness, like he didn't think this was a good idea at all.

"I think so. I mean, I don't think it could hurt? And, well, it would at least help everyone feel a little better to be trying to do something, even if the spell doesn't work. 'Cause, see, this is something the Potentials could all do."

"But _blood magic_ , Willow?"

"I'm with Giles on this one, Will. Sounds kinda... _dark_ ," Buffy said, slightly hesitantly. She didn't want Willow to feel like she was against _her_ , but...

"I'm more concerned with the inherent opportunities for certain individuals who understand the magic better than others to potentially...exploit it."

Bella sniggered. "Paranoid, much?"

"Don't worry, Rupert, Bella and I won't be joining the Circle."

"Why not?" Kennedy demanded. "Is it dangerous, or something? Why would you recommend we do something you won't do yourselves? What aren't you telling us?"

"Oh, for— You, little girl! Stop being all..." Anya flapped a hand at the now-offended Potential. "...head-biting-off-ish! Obviously if you're doing a spell to maintain emotional stability and equilibrium, you don't want to include anyone who would drag you all down — and since Mira and Bellatrix _are_ more familiar with this kind of magic, they'd have a disproportionate influence on the rest of you."

Bella nodded. "Entertaining as it might be, dealing with a house full of feral, hysterical teenagers would kind of distract from the bigger project here. Besides, if you're using actual _blood_ as the medium, mine doesn't tend to mix well with humans'."

Buffy didn't want to ask why. She _did_ kind of want to know why the two of them were likely to drive the rest of them into _feral hysteria_ — she wasn't sure she wanted to be taking advice from people who were _mentally unstable_.

Mira knew it, too. "Thanks for that, Bella, Anya..." she muttered, hands rising to massage her own temples. "Force of personality and self-confidence are important weighting factors as well. I would recommend you keep it to just Willow, Dawn, and the Potentials, for that reason alone. And Andrew, of course."

"I... Okay, go ahead and start designing the spell, Willow, and we'll see what the Potentials think tomorrow, let anyone who wants to opt out, and...yeah."

"We can do it tonight — it's dead easy, I already know how."

"I...still want to wait. Just, sleep on it first, okay, see if it still seems like a good idea in the morning. I don't want to rush into something like this, or push them into it without being sure it's— Look, talk to Giles after the meeting. Convince him it's the right move, and I'm on-board."

Willow looked a little hurt and taken aback, but she nodded.

"Very well, then, anyone else have any business to discuss?"

"Oh, me!" Anya said, when no one else spoke up. "As the only person here who cares about money, I think it's my responsibility to point out that we're running out of it. Fast. Buffy, you're so far in the red the only thing that's going to save your credit at this point is the end of the world, and you can't just keep relying on Xander and Giles to support your little sorority here."

"Anya!" Xander hissed. "I told you I'd talk to her!"

"Yes, and you'd end up promising to take out a loan to help her or something. No, this stops now. We need to find another way!"

"Wait. You don't get paid for this?"

"No, Bella, why would— Who would pay us to—"

"—to keep the monster situation in this town under control? Seems like a public service to me, protecting the human citizens and whatnot. The government could at least pay you enough to feed you all."

"Yeah, one little problem with that plan," Xander said, chuckling slightly. "The mayor of Sunnydale tends to be evil. It's kind of a _thing_."

"Anya, you needn't concern yourself — we've hardly been living off of my personal savings. Since the Watchers' Council has effectively...been dissolved, they are no longer in need of the resources they managed to accumulate over the centuries. And I still have access to...a significant part of those resources. If you need money, just ask."

"Really?" Buffy felt tears of relief pricking at her eyes. Thank God, at least she didn't need to worry about them _starving_ to death...

"Of course, Buffy. I wouldn't expect you to— Believe me I'm quite aware of your dismal financial situation, and I brought these girls here. I could hardly expect you to feed them all yourself. Good _Lord_ — I'm quite certain I told _someone_ that the credit card in the cookie jar is to be used as needed..." He gave Anya a very pointed glare.

"You did, yes, but I thought it was _yours_ , not the _Council's_ , and _you_ don't have a real job _either_ — so we've been using it _as needed_."

"And you didn't think to tell me it _existed_?!" She was going to strangle that girl!

"Andrew and I do all the shopping. He said _as needed_ , and you didn't _need_ it!"

"Heads up, Giles — maybe next time tell someone who _isn't_ going to take you _completely literally_?"

"Ooh, shut up, Xander, this isn't about _us_!"

"Hey, uh, Buffy?" one of the Potentials said, poking her head out the back door. Rona. "Woah, you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. It was just— It was _such_ a relief to not have to worry about the money. "Just, good news for once. What is it?"

"Oh, we were just wondering if you knew where Chloe is."

"Chloe?" Buffy echoed.

"Yeah, you know, about yea tall, dark hair, Miss Drill Instructor over there likes to call her _Maggot?"_

"I know who she is, Rona, but I haven't seen her since you were making popcorn. I thought she was in there with the rest of you."

"What? You came in and asked her to come talk about— Well, we _thought_ it was whatever her deal is with Kennedy, but—"

"Rona!" Mira interrupted, her tone suddenly _very_ intense. "This is very important. When did Buffy fetch Chloe away?"

Yeah, Buffy would like to know that, too.

"Uh, like, half an hour ago? Maybe forty-five minutes? I dunno, the movie was still on, you came in and said you wanted to talk to her in private about something?"

Buffy felt herself freeze, ice running through her veins. It– It— _NO!_

" _Fuck!"_ Rona startled at Mira's sudden swearing.

"But— What's going on, exactly?" Robin asked.

"The First can look like Buffy," Spike explained.

"And Chloe is on my list! We have to find her. Bella can you—?"

"Uh, no, I've never even spoken to this Chloe girl, definitely don't know her well enough to find her in Shadows."

"Of course not," the other demon muttered. "Where would she—"

"ANDREW!"

Everyone turned to stare at Bella, her friend's eyes narrowing, no doubt thinking the same thing as Buffy: what the hell was _Andrew_ going to do? She wouldn't say he wasn't _useful_ , he was doing a lot of the cooking and cleaning lately, but he wasn't exactly the guy she'd put in charge of a _rescue mission_. "What— Bella—?"

He must've been in the kitchen already, because it was only a second before he was standing in the doorway, still wearing that idiotic apron of his. "I didn't do it!"

"If you had to guess where Hot Shite is making its home base, where would it be? Based on that Big Board thing I was mocking you about earlier."

"But, I thought you said it didn't need one?"

"I did, yes, hence the mockery. But we've misplaced a Potential, so—"

Andrew gasped. "It took Chloe?! Hang on! I have a map!"


	14. Too Little, Too Late

She was in the basement of the school.

Of course she was.

Everything always came back to the Hellmouth, eventually.

Xander almost didn't recognize the room where he'd been tortured only the night before. The pit had been covered up, the dirt floor raked so the only footprints were Chloe's, and the frame thingy his demon date had used to suspend him was gone. But the hook she'd used to hang her pulley system was still there, and a rope — the rope he'd helped her choose. Plain but sturdy, the cut end poking out of its knot, fraying slightly where she hadn't known to melt the fibers together, digging into...

Into Chloe's neck.

The swivel chair she'd used to reach the hook, to loop the noose around her head, was overturned. Missing a wheel, she must've found it down here, somewhere, in storage.

It was...

It was horrible.

In all his years as a Scoobie, helping Buffy fight back evil, save the world, he didn't think he'd ever seen anything quite as horrible as—

She'd _killed herself_.

The First had convinced her to tie a noose and hang it there, right above the portal to hell, and get a chair, and—

He should get the others. He should—

"Xander, did you find—" Buffy cut herself off with a gasp, rounding the doorway. "Oh my God... ROBIN! We— Xander, call him or something, would you? I forgot my phone."

She forgot... Something was off. Something about the tone, the words. The _reaction_. He saw her realize he knew, a smirk spreading across her intangible face even as he waved a hand through it.

"You..."

"Xander? Who are you— _You_!" Buffy exclaimed. The real Buffy, so furious coming face-to-face with her doppleganger that she didn't even notice Chloe at first.

That fell to Wood, who dropped to his knees, staring up at the corpse of a girl who no doubt reminded him of hundreds who passed through this school every day. "My God..."

"Yep, _me_ ," the First said, its features transforming as it did to mimic those of the dead girl, before her face went all bloated and discolored from the hanging. "No Mirabella? Shame, I was hoping to have a _word_ with her..."

Buffy, apparently transfixed by the sight, ignored her. "Robin, Xander, do you— Does one of you have a knife? I want— We need to cut her down."

Silly question, of course Principal Vampire Hunter had a knife on him. He handed it to her without a word, moving to hold Chloe's body as Buffy righted the chair.

Xander sent out a message to the other teams to call off the search, meet back at the house. There was no point coming here. In fact, it was all kind of seeming awfully pointless, trying to resist the inevitable. "Hey! Are you _doing_ something?" he demanded.

"Ooh, aren't you the clever one. Tell you what, just for that, I'll let _you_ carry my message for me. Tell your new little friends that this isn't the beginning — we're almost at the end. The more you try to resist me, the more it will hurt as you lose them all, one by one. Chloe was smart, she knew that. Better to just... _get out of the way_. Save yourself some pain, before I decide you've made too much of an annoyance of yourselves to let you off so easily.

"And tell that little whore that my priest is coming for her, to turn her pride and pleasure to torturous misery, and teach her the place of obnoxious, outspoken little girls. There is no way in which she will not be violated in the end, and she will _beg_ for death before I allow her that sweet release."

"Are you done, yet?" Buffy demanded, pointing the knife rather threateningly in its direction, or in a way that would be threatening, if it could be hurt by a physical weapon.

"Mmm, almost. Ask yourself this, Buffy, dear: would I have killed little Chloe here if she hadn't pushed me? In a way, you could lay that body at the feet of Mirabella Zabini, along with so _many_ others."

"You really like the sound of your own voice, don't you?" Buffy sneered.

The First twisted Chloe's face into a sunny grin. "Chloe did."

Buffy ignored her. "You know what I think? I think you're scared of her. Of _us_. I think she's _right_ , that the only power you hold over us is the power we give you. And I _think_ you just pissed off the wrong Slayer. See, in case you haven't heard, I'll _bring_ your apocalypse, bitch! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important people to talk to than _you_."

The First's laughter followed them out of the basement, Wood still cradling Chloe's body, but none of them looked back.


	15. Big Girl Trousers

"I'm bored."

"Shut up, Bella."

"Seriously, do I _need_ to be here?"

"Yes. They found her, they'll be back soon."

"But everyone's just being... _boring_." All scared and depressed and kind of like that time Arcturus dragged her to Azkaban trying to scare her into behaving, which was a laugh. All it had really taught her was that dementors thought she was kind of creepy, which was _fucking hilarious_.

"Bella, I'm trying to talk to Rupert and Willow."

Yes, Bella knew that. But they'd covered how to actually cast a blood ward and the symbols they'd want to employ, and they'd just been arguing over the same handful of concerns for the last...since they'd gotten back here. Who cared if including Willow would put her in a position to suck the life out of the entire circle if she was backed into a corner? It wasn't as though that was exactly _likely_ , and the fact that they were _all_ scared and shite now didn't actually change anything, Bella didn't think? It would still be harder for Prewett to talk any single one of them into doing something self-destructive if they were all keeping each other _steadily_ miserable.

"Did they say _when_ they'd be back?"

" _Soon_ , Bella."

It had been far too long for them to have been coming _straight_ back from the school. They must've gone to dispose of the body first. Which did make sense, really shouldn't leave those lying around. "So, no."

Zee gave her an exasperated sigh, but before she could actually say anything else, the back door slammed open. Buffy stalked in, red-eyed and furious, flanked by Xander and the Headmaster, finally looking like she might be able to kill someone.

"Is everyone here?" she demanded.

Bella certainly hoped so, everyone being all boring wasn't the _only_ reason she didn't want to be here — the whole kitchen-dining room area was getting uncomfortably crowded.

"All accounted for." Their Cohort Leader, the one who'd wanted to pick a fight with Bella despite being so far out of her league it wasn't funny, was one of the less annoyingly emotional ones. She _was_ emotional — Zee said she was so angry because she was really scared — but anger was less annoying than fucking _moping_. Probably because she'd actually had some training, and not just fake-fighting fitness-type dragonshite a couple of the others had. After fighting Buffy and watching Kennedy a little more over the course of the afternoon, Bella thought Kennedy might be the better-trained out of the two of them. (She'd also swallowed her pride and shifted her subject matter as Bella had recommended, which had raised Bella's initial impression of her skills considerably.) Still not as good as Bella, even on level ground, and she wouldn't be able to hold her own against the Slayer's strength and speed, but better than Buffy from a technical perspective. Even if she'd never seen anyone die, it still seemed likely she'd come to terms with the idea of mortality a while ago.

"Good. By now you all know that Chloe is gone. The First got to her, got in her head. It convinced her to hang herself, in the basement of the school." She paused to let the girls mutter amongst themselves. "We don't know what it said to her, exactly, but we know it wanted her to think we're doomed. That there's no way to win, to stop it, that it's _inevitable_.

"And you know what I have to say to that?

" _Fuck_ that bitch!

"We know what it wants — for us to _give up_! To kill ourselves _for_ it, because it can't do it itself! And I'm saying fuck _that_ , too! We're not going to quit, we're not even going to _back down_ , and it can't make us! Willow, that spell you were talking about earlier? Do it. And Robin? I'm declaring a state of emergency. That kit of your mother's...?"

"You got it, Slayer," he said, slipping back out the door.

"Xander, go with him — no one goes anywhere alone from now on." Xander threw her a salute of some sort before hurrying to catch up. "Spike, I want you and Anya to start planning booby traps to plant around the portal." Oh, good, sounded like someone had passed on Bella's suggestions from earlier. "Physical and magical, but nothing fatal—" _Less good_. "—because it'll probably try to use students to dig the thing up again, and when Xander and Robin get back they can join you in finding a way to keep it more permanently closed. Try not to get Xander fired.

"Giles, Mira, you help Willow — we'll reconvene when you're done with your spell. That involves all of you Potentials, Dawn, and Andrew, so I'm thinking backyard?" Willow nodded. "Okay then, let's get it done," their leader (actually _acting_ like a leader for the first time since Bella had met her) said firmly, jerking a thumb back over her shoulder at the door.

 _Almost_ everybody cleared out, Spike and Anya heading toward the basement, Andrew and the Potentials following Giles out back, a nervous Willow dragging Kennedy back to the living room to grab some herbs and candles. Smudge bowls. An athame. Oh! A lighter! (She kept thinking of more things they needed, listing them off as they went, it was kind of funny.)

Zee didn't.

"Did you need something, Mira?" Buffy snapped. "Because I'm pretty sure I just told you to go with Willow."

Zee gave her one of those sympathetic, understanding _looks_ that she and Tom were so good at (and Bella couldn't do at all). "You did, yes."

"Then why are you still here?"

"Because it seems everyone else who might do so is too shocked by your sudden assertiveness to remind you that we humans have petty, animal needs — like _sleep_."

"You— In case you didn't notice, there are things that need to get done, Mirabella! Weren't you the one saying that we can't just sit around _reacting_ to the First, earlier? Besides, do you _really_ think any of us would be able to sleep tonight, anyway?"

"Poor Rupert would — he hasn't seen his bed since the night before last, was practically falling asleep in his chair talking to us when you returned. And while you, Liam, and Bella may be able to stay awake for another day with no ill effects, the rest of us certainly cannot — though I'd be willing to bet if you sit down for five minutes, you'll pass out as well. Xander, as you just mentioned, does have a job which he will be expected to report to in the morning, as does the Headmaster, and I'm quite certain you don't _actually_ want Willow attempting to do magic while anything less than fully functional. Moreover, in case you haven't noticed, the Potentials are _children_. Children who have lost one of their own to a terrifying enemy. An enemy which is still out there, and determined to see them dead as well."

"Yeah, well, all the more reason to keep them busy."

"No, Buffy, they need time to mourn. After the circle is established, I'm going to hold a wake for Chloe. Willow will likely be in a poor state of mind for any further planning, either exhausted or somewhat drunk on the effects of the magic, and Rupert _will_ be going to sleep. I _strongly_ recommend that the rest of us do the same when Robin and Xander return. Including you." Buffy opened her mouth to object, but Zee talked over her. " _Tired people make mistakes_ , Buffy. They're clumsy and slow even in life-or-death situations, and miss obvious solutions to problems, their judgment suffers— I'm all in favour of _getting shite done_ , but tearing off without a coherent plan simply to be _doing something_ is hardly _making progress_."

Bella suspected that particular point wasn't directed solely at Buffy. Both Zee _and_ Tom disapproved of her tendency toward improvisation, even if things _did_ tend to work out for her in the end — perks of being a black mage. And spontaneity was always more fun than _following a plan_. ( _Always_.)

Of course, she'd heard the argument about needing sleep before, too. Less, since Tom had gotten tired of their bickering over it and forbade Mira to nag her unless she stayed up for more than sixty-four hours straight. But that wasn't until tomorrow night — she was pretty sure she'd managed to convince Zee the time they'd spent in that last universe didn't count. Besides, she was pretty sure Zee wanted her to guard the house while everyone else slept. Maybe she could convince Spike to keep her company. Being the only conscious person around was almost as boring as being surrounded by _boring_ _people_.

Buffy capitulated after a surprisingly short pause to think it over. "Fine!" she snapped. "Fine. You can sleep. I'll... I'll find something to work on by myself while you get your precious beauty rest." Well, partially capitulated, at least. Zee held her entirely unimpressed, _stop trying to lie, you're terrible at it_ expression until the Slayer broke. "I— There's no point trying to sleep when I know I'm going to have nightmares, and I can't stop _thinking_ and _worrying_ and— And anyway, someone needs to make sure the Bringers don't sneak up on us while everyone else is asleep!"

"Bella will guard the household, and I can help you fall asleep without dreaming."

"Uh, are you sure about that?" Bella had to ask. Because while using mind magic to knock someone out _was_ incredibly effective and Zee could probably easily sink Buffy's concerns, she kind of had a problem _stopping_ legilimising people. And the only way _Bella_ could fix that was physically dragging her body far enough away from her victim that she couldn't maintain the connection, and she snapped back to herself. Which was apparently pretty traumatic for both parties — debilitatingly so, in fact. And if they incapacitated two people trying to get one to sleep, that was kind of a major step _backward_. Which Zee almost certainly knew, which made it even weirder that she'd suggest—

"Mesmerism, not legilimency."

" _Oh_ , okay." A deep trance state wasn't _quite_ the same as actually _sleeping_ , but it was pretty easy to fall asleep after you were already entranced. Especially if it was suggested, and the mesmerist didn't bother bringing you back up.

"Wait. You want to _hypnotize_ me?"

Zee frowned at the older girl. "Mesmerism is a legitimate performative magic technique used by mind healers to help their clients reach a trance state and explore their subconscious, or in this case _not_. Hypnosis is the mind-magic equivalent of Three-Card Monte — a superficial show to distract you from some unscrupulous bastard planting a deep compulsion to _quack_ every time someone says your name or something."

"Still sore over that one?" At the beginning of fourth year, Tom had given them a demonstration of hypnosis in class...though he didn't actually _tell_ anyone, just gave a lecture on the subject, and then in the next period asked whether anyone had noticed the effect, could they describe it for the rest of them, and so on. Which meant that every time Zee moaned the name of her then-boyfriend in the midst of a passionate moment, he'd responded with an involuntary _quack_. For _weeks_.

"If Tom didn't like Jerald, he could've just _said so_!"

"That wouldn't have been nearly as entertaining. Besides, it was a teachable moment — if he just wanted to fuck with Jerry's head, he would've used legilimency. Anyway, yeah, I can work on the text for the Turok-Han anatomy book or something while you're all being unconscious and boring." Ooh, she could work on making a match for her bone knife. She did still have the other tibia, she just hadn't had much opportunity to work on it. Or, well, once she had _one_ decent weapon against the Fiends, there had been higher priority projects. Like exploring the world they'd found themselves in and trying to find a way out. (Because Zee _hated_ tenting, and _that_ was _worse_. According to her. Bella had been perfectly comfortable there, enjoying the opportunity to indulge her more destructive tendencies and having enough enemies around that she was actually in danger of being overrun. Honestly, she wasn't sure she could think of a way to improve it as a holiday destination.)

"You've been up just as long as I have," Buffy said, but even Bella could see her resolve wavering.

"Yeah, but I'm _me_ , and Zee's not allowed to nag me about sleeping for another eighteen hours or so."

"Er, Mira? Are you coming?" Willow asked, requisite supplies apparently gathered.

"Of course," she said, gliding over to the native witch with well-practised grace. "Think about it, Buffy."

Buffy, as soon as they were gone, collapsed onto the nearest chair, rubbing at her eyes as though trying to relieve a pressure headache.

"So, did you have something for me to do that you didn't want the rest of them to know about, or did you just not have an assignment for me?"

"What? Oh, Bella. I..." Apparently she was more tired than Bella had thought, if she was losing track of her train of thought. "I need you to tell me how to kill something I can't touch."

She shrugged. "We don't have enough information on the intangible bitch, yet. Some intangible entities you can kill by binding them to a physical form and killing that. Mundane spirits, mostly. Demonic spirits can be permanently exorcised — kicked out of the universe, basically. Purely memetic entities like gods, you have to undermine the source of their power, the aspect of humanity or the natural world they govern, and the way their worshippers understand them — their _myth_ — to really _destroy_ them. Which obviously takes _years_ if not _generations_. Though, sometimes they're _accidentally_ killed, if you kill everyone who worships them, or, you know, enough of them that they turn away from the god that was supposed to save them. That's _probably_ part of the reason Hot Shite is so weak, honestly — if it really _does_ rise from the collective malevolence of humanity and the cruelty of nature, I'm guessing no one really believes that that malevolence is embodied in a specific god."

She hadn't seen _much_ of this universe, but it seemed a lot like her own, insofar as the muggles were largely monotheistic. Lots of Christian churches in town, but not a single temple devoted to any smaller entities. Their mythos didn't really have a god of destruction and darkness to oppose their light creator god, so.

Buffy glared at her. "You said you could kill it, last night."

"No, I said if it annoyed me enough, I would find a way. I don't know what that way is, yet. We need more information on what it actually _is_ , where it came from. _It_ assumed I was going to 'seal it away' which suggests that would be much easier — and also that it's not _really_ a god. I mean, you could _try_ to encapsulate Eris in a pocket universe or whatever, but as long as people know her name and are spiteful and vengeful and make other people miserable for their own entertainment, she'd have a foothold outside of it. But I was really only planning on taking it down a peg or two for claiming to be the Dark Itself when it's clearly only a sliver of the greater whole, and an inferior one at that."

Though if the shite she'd overheard Willow and Zee talking about in reference to their spell to keep the kids out of Prewett's hands was true, it was apparently capable of more subtlety than she'd thought. Well, either that or its attention and/or presence just unconsciously inspired a dementor-like pall of depression, which...wasn't _entirely_ unlikely, Bella guessed, though of course she wouldn't notice either way.

"So you thought you'd just– just waltz in here and piss it off, and then skip back off to wherever you came from and leave us to deal with the fallout? Gee, thanks." Buffy glared at her, clearly disapproving of what wasn't even _really_ her plan.

" _No_ , I thought I'd piss it off and foil its current plan just to show it that it's not the god it thinks it is — imagine, being thwarted by a mere mortal, how pathetic — incidentally causing it a major setback and probably giving you a bit of breathing room to figure out how to deal with it more permanently. But then it mentioned the possibility of sealing it away, so since I don't really have any idea how to get home, and no real reason to go back anyway, we might stick around long enough to do that first. Plus, you know, Zee seems to be really getting into this little game, and I probably do owe her for dragging her on the tenting expedition from hell, so I'm kind of inclined to let her see it through"

That, if anything, actually seemed to _alarm_ the Slayer. Bloody incomprehensible...

"What do you mean you don't know how to get home?"

"What part of Zee saying we're _lost_ was unclear? I mean, I'm not terribly concerned, but that doesn't mean I know how to get home." Her plan at the moment was actually to just ask Eris to ask Angel to tell Tom to summon them back or something — she had their dimensional coordinates now, shouldn't be too difficult — but she was perfectly willing to continue wandering around for a while first. Honestly, this was the best holiday she'd ever had.

"You can't stay here. You know that, right?"

Oh, right. Probably concerned she wouldn't be able to get rid of Bella if she took it into her head to just settle down in this dimension. That made sense, she guessed. She might not see it, but she was aware that other people found her vaguely terrifying. "Don't worry, we won't. There's not enough magic here, for one thing, and I couldn't just permanently walk out on my sisters. Disappearing for a month or so, fine, no one will be surprised, but I _do_ have responsibilities at home. Plus, you know, Zee has plans, and Tom will eventually decide he wants us back — he can be very possessive like that. I'm just saying, there's no pressing reason I need to leave by a certain date. Also, we appear to have slipped a bit in time, so it doesn't realistically _matter_ how long we're here. Not much difference going back thirty-six or -seven years instead of thirty-five."

Buffy bit her lip, nodding slowly. "Right... Right. Okay..."

She lapsed into silence long enough Bella actually thought she was done talking and pulled her purloined notebook out to work on the list of features she would need to explain in greater detail if she actually did publish this little Fiend-slaying guide for anyone else. With the same sense of timing that made it so annoying to try to get anything done around Cissy and Sirius, as soon as she started writing, Buffy started talking again.

"So, we need to find out more about the First."

Bella sighed, stabbing the pencil back into the metal spiral holding the pages together. "Yes. We can take active steps to thwart its obvious goals, like making the portal impossible for its pawns to access and killing all of its possessed puppets we can get our hands on, but that's still playing defence, really. The closest thing we have to an _offensive_ strategic option at the moment is gathering intelligence."

The Slayer huffed. "You think we haven't been trying to— No one knows anything about this thing!"

Bella smirked at her. "Do you know how incredibly unlikely that is? See, the thing about asking questions is you have to ask the right questions, and you have to ask the right people. Most of the time, whatever you're looking for isn't conveniently archived in some ancient text, and especially not in a language you can read, in a library you have access to. But _someone_ out there _somewhere_ knows what this thing is, or enough clues to figure it out."

"Well if there are, we don't know who, or where, so that's not going to work very well, is it."

Bella shrugged. "Well, don't just go around looking for information on the _First Evil_ — talking to Willow and Giles earlier made it pretty clear you lot don't really have a clear idea of how magic works here, or why. That'd be a better starting point. I mean, if you knew more about magic and magical entities, that would at least help narrow down exactly what kind of creature you're dealing with. In my world, it would probably be a delusional remnant of an incompletely subsumed avatar of the Dark — er, something like me," she added, in response to the exhausted look of incomprehension Buffy gave her. Not that she actually _was_ an avatar of Eris, but there was really no closer equivalent she thought the Slayer would be familiar with. Some versions of herself _were_ actual embodiments of their goddess, of course, and others were barely in contact with her at all — she was pretty sure she would be somewhere near the middle, if Eris were to rank all of her Bellatrices by how close to her they were — but explaining that would be a major conversational detour. "When I die, my soul will be absorbed by Eris's, and eventually lose any sense of coherence or individuality. But it's not entirely unheard-of for an Aspect — a deity, that is — to delay that process to keep a human soul around as a companion for an eon or so. Death's kind of notorious for it, actually. Now, the kind of people who tend to dedicate themselves to the Dark aren't generally the most stable individuals, it wouldn't be that odd for a partially subsumed soul to come to believe that it _is_ the Dark, despite the fact that it's obviously _not_.

"But Anya says in this dimension you also have entities that grew out of magic directly. In my world, purely magical entities like gods arise from consciousness and the impression that makes on Magic. So you have mundane beings first, and then magical ones. But here it kind of sounds like it's possible for magic to develop consciousness independently of mundane life — which is fucking neat, but makes it a lot harder to guess what we might be dealing with here. Maybe a 'true' demon — still not sure what that means, exactly, some kind of independent extra-terrestrial or extra-planar magic-being, maybe? Calling itself the _First Evil_ suggests that whatever it is, it's been _impacted_ by human perceptions of the world, at least, but that doesn't mean its _origins_ are necessarily based in human perception.

"I mean, apparently it's more possible than I thought that it's actually been around since before conscious life existed, but if that's the case it wouldn't have been any sort of _evil_ , back then — maybe somehow related to the destruction inherent to life, or the entropic nature of the universe itself, but it's a human thing to put a value judgment on that sort of thing, and _especially_ a negative one. Nature is cruel, but not malicious."

"And _what_ , exactly, is the difference there?"

"Er...intent? Specifically intent to cause harm — cruelty doesn't care whether you get hurt as it carries out its plans, or in the case of nature as physics and biology and whatnot just play out the consequences of that first domino falling. Zee is cruel. She doesn't care if she hurts people, but she's not really _out to_ , if you know what I mean. That's not the _point_. Tom is malicious. He likes hurting people, that's the point, not whatever money or status he manages to gain in the process. Normal people, I guess, would probably call all of us evil, Zee maybe a _lesser_ evil, but we — people who view the Dark as anything other than a monolithic, homogenous entity — would say that she's more selfish, and he's more corrupting or destructive."

"And you?" Buffy asked, her annoyance having transformed at some point to anxiety, all tense and ready for a fight, which was kind of ridiculous, it wasn't like Bella had done anything _threatening_ , here.

"I'm _chaotic_ — I'm the one who knocks over that first domino and laughs at all the idiots hurting _themselves_ as they _react_ to it. Anyway, we're getting off-topic. The way I see it, we should be trying to learn more about the nature of magic in this universe, and what kinds of magical entities we _could_ be dealing with, rather than asking random scholars, _so, have you heard of some intangible spirit or manifestation calling itself the First Evil, and do you by chance know how to kill it_ , or whatever."

Buffy groaned, leaning forward with her elbows on the table to press her palms against her eyes.

"Well, _this_ doesn't look good," Xander announced, leading Wood back into the dining room. The Headmaster was carrying a heavy-looking leather satchel, rather like a carpetbag or an oversized healer's kit, which must be the emergency thing he'd gone to fetch. He set it on the table beside her. When Buffy didn't immediately respond, Xander added, "Er...Buff? We come bearing gifts."

"Huh? Oh! Good! Great!" Yeah, someone definitely needed a nap. "Thank you, Robin," she added, catching the taller man's eye over her friend's shoulder. "I know how much this means, I—"

"It's yours, Buffy. It always should have been."

She nodded, fingering the clasp but not opening it, clearly lost in thought. "Thank you," she repeated lamely.

"So! Did we miss anything important?"

"Mmm, Buffy decided to put on her big-girl trousers and give everyone jobs to do, just in time for Zee to point out that she's still human and needs to sleep, and is at this point simply being stubborn about not wanting to, like a small child who's stayed up past her bedtime."

The Slayer glared at her, but was apparently too tired to actually get up and smack her. "Shut up, demon girl."

Bella ignored her. "Almost everyone's out back doing that spell Willow came up with. Spike and Anya are downstairs coming up with plans for booby traps. You two are supposed to help them figure out how to get that truckload of concrete into the school basement _without_ getting Xander fired, but Zee convinced Buffy that can wait until tomorrow, because, you know. Humans. Sleep."

"Oh, thank God, I thought you were going to drag us off to do more book-reading and stuff," Xander said, addressing Buffy instead of Bella, despite the fact that she'd been the one catching him up. _Rude_. "Or try to blow up the portal or something _tonight_. And I'm beat. Some of us were just used as a human sacrifice yesterday, you know. And Mira's right, you do need to sleep — Willow and I have been getting kind of worried about you, you know."

Buffy's glare shifted to him, but it was clear her heart wasn't in it. "I'm fine, Xander."

"Fine and _exhausted_. Just saying, this plan, I approve."

Of course he did. Zee was very good at talking people into doing needful things like sleeping, and even better at identifying those needs in the first place. If Prewett was trying to wear down the group here, taking care of them and making sure they didn't self-destruct was the obvious counter-move, so. "Zee's going to do some sort of memorial something-or-other for the dead Potential, probably give them all valerian tea or something to knock them out when they're done dealing with their feelings and shite. I expect you two are welcome to join them if you want — wakes do tend to be open-door things — but even if you don't, you should probably sleep here so Hot Shite can't send puppets to fuck with you."

The Headmaster nodded, with a tiny, tired sigh. "Right. I'll take first watch, unless you've already divvied them up?"

"Oh!" That was actually kind of a pleasant surprise. She hadn't expected any of the obviously tired humans to volunteer to stay up. "Well, I'm going to be around to keep an eye on things, so you don't have to, but if you want to keep me company, I don't mind."

"Er..."

"I was going to ask Spike to keep watch, too, Robin," Buffy told him. Which apparently did very little to reassure him that no one was going to be murdered in their sleep. She changed the subject with slightly more vigor. "Come on, let's see what emergency goodies have been passed down from Slayer to Slayer since time immemorial while we wait for everyone else to get done with their magic."

The Slayer relics, as it turned out, were kind of boring. A handful of weapons — enchanted knives and plain wooden stakes, as well as a handful of throwing stars, a boomerang, a night-stick, a pair of sais, and a set of knuckle-dusters that would make getting hit by Buffy positively _deadly_ (as though it wasn't already). There were a couple of empty vials that the natives thought had probably once contained blessed water, but they'd obviously leaked at some point in the past thirty years or however long, so. An assortment of crumbling herbs in tiny undyed cotton sachets, clearly meant to be used for spellcasting of some sort, but all so much useless dust by now. Most of them were so far gone the only one she could even identify was a few dry, grey buds of cannabis. A perfectly muggle first-aid kit, a mechanical tinder-box of sorts, a change of under-clothes. (Wood's mum had had nice taste in lingerie, very lacy.) Basically what you'd expect in an emergency evacuation bag.

There were also at least a dozen protective amulets and other enchanted trinkets (still active enough Bella found them vaguely unpleasant to touch, they set those aside for Willow and Giles to analyse), and a heavy book written in a dozen or more different languages over the course of what might have been millennia — obviously it had been copied several times over that period, because the oldest parts were written in bloody _cuneiform_ script, and the book itself couldn't be more than a few centuries old. The fact that the text had been copied, but not _translated_ , suggested that the first transcription had been done by someone who didn't actually _know_ the language — a solution which had obviously been employed more than once: Bella recognised Chinese and Cyrillic characters as well as sections in Greek and Latin which _had_ been updated at some point to something she could actually read. French. Arabic. Coptic. The latest section was in plain English, presumably added by Nikki Wood or her handler ("Watcher"). From what Bella gathered in her quick skim through it, it was mostly notes on the trials and threats various Slayers had encountered over the centuries, and the outcomes thereof, like a Slayer Grimoire. Which was really fucking neat.

If Bella ended up staying here long enough, she might actually try to translate some of the older parts, and there were plenty of empty pages still, she could copy her info on the Turok-Han in as well, since there apparently weren't any _other_ books in this universe that had information on how to kill them.

And then there was the Box.

Heavy, dark wood held together with iron bands, its latch held in place by a heavily rusted padlock which snapped easily with a single twist of Buffy's wrist.

Inside the box was a linen bag, and in the bag...

"What even are these things?" Buffy asked, holding the dark metal shapes up to the light. "Like, people? A demon, maybe?"

"They're shadow-casters," Zee said, stepping back into the room. "You put a light behind them, and use the shadows to illustrate a story."

"Mira!" Xander exclaimed, the energy in his greeting betraying his anxiety. "How did it go?"

"Better than I expected, honestly — everyone's fine, just exhausted, both physically and emotionally. I lit a candle for Chloe, made a toast to her memory and got the girls started saying a few words in the living room, but I expect most of them will turn in soon. Giles already helped Kennedy take Willow upstairs. Poor thing tried to take all their fear and uncertainty on herself, with the predictable result. Migraine," she added, for those who didn't know what the predictable result was. "And I'm rather tired myself, so if you don't mind, I'd like to get on with getting _you_ to sleep, Buffy, so _I_ can go to sleep."

"But I never agreed— We need to figure out—"

"No, Buffy," Wood said, sounding responsible and adult in a way Zee couldn't _quite_ pull off. (Bella knew she didn't really seem like a schoolgirl, but she didn't seem _much_ older and more authoritative than Buffy and her friends either, and she only seemed older than _them_ because they all kind of acted like especially incompetent seventh-year commoners at best — Bella had been legitimately surprised when Dawn mentioned her sister was in her _twenties_.) "Mira's right, you look exhausted. We'll get Giles to watch and make sure she doesn't do anything _other_ than help you get to sleep, and I'll stay up with Bella and the vampire, make sure nothing _else_ happens to anyone while you're out."

Buffy wavered. "But, you have work in the morning, and—"

"And I'll call in sick. The school can continue its merry handbasket ride to hell without me for one day."

Xander nodded. "Face it, Buff: this is a democracy, not a Buffocracy, and you've been outvoted. It's bedtime. So put your toys back in the box like a good girl and Mira will sing you a lullaby, and off to the sandman we go."

"Oh, shut up, Xander," Buffy snapped, fighting not to smile at his teasing.


	16. Shadow Story

After that, things got very boring, very quickly. Spike and Anya had already fallen asleep on the mattress downstairs (apparently Zee's assumption that vampires in this universe were less human in their requirements for sleep was unfounded), and despite his determination to keep an eye on her the Headmaster soon joined them. (In unconsciousness, not physically on the mattress — that would be weird.) He just kind of nodded off in an armchair in the middle of a conversation comparing the anatomy of vampires and Turok-Han.

Bella _knew_ she couldn't be the only person in this universe who thought the hands-on approach was the best method to learn how to kill things, and Wood hadn't always been skilled enough to kill vampires _cleanly_. Even if he hadn't _intentionally_ vivisected one, he'd still murdered enough of them slowly and horribly that he could comment on their biology reasonably well.

Which left Bella as the sole conscious person, yet again. Since she couldn't exactly go exploring the town again and guard the house at the same time, and there wasn't a dueling ring here let alone animated training dummies to practise against, that just left academic projects and handicrafts to entertain herself with. And she'd be lying if she said there wasn't one academic question that interested her a hell of a lot more even than finishing the Turok-Han guide: How does magic work in this world?

Given the apparent age of the Slayer Grimoire, that seemed as good a place to start looking for clues as any. None of the parts she could read _without_ the aid of a dictionary said anything useful, so she spent an hour or so searching the house for any potential translation aids, and the rest of the night at the dining room table, entertaining herself with notes and reference books. She was kind of surprised, actually, that the time went so quickly. It was already almost six when one of the Potentials, apparently on her way to get a glass of water, turned on the dining-room light, and proceeded to wake all the others with her sharp yelp of surprise.

Mira, severely annoyed to have her sleep interrupted, was even _more_ annoyed when she realised that the only reason they'd been woken up was that Bella had been reading in the dark _yet again_ , and thereby managed to scare some poor human passer-by who thought they were alone in the room _yet again_. (She was pretty sure the prefects had started warning new firsties about her tendency to _lurk_ by now, but she did still accidentally terrify her housemates on occasion anyway.) She _would_ say it wasn't her fault it was more comfortable for her to read in the dark, but it kind of was, subsuming darkness and "becoming one with the shadows" as she had.

Buffy, on the other hand, was apparently feeling very refreshed after her six hours or so of dreamless unconsciousness, and so was almost obscenely pleased that the entire household had been woken so early. It was kind of hilarious, especially Mira muttering, "Gods and Powers, there are two of you," before attempting to take a nap on the Hebrew grammar Bella had found in the kitchen, catalogued with the cookbooks for no explicable reason.

Still, after two cups of coffee and half of a disgustingly sweet crepe, she was awake enough to join the little "leadership" cabal which remained after everyone else had their assignments for the morning. The girls were in for another "grueling" day of training — Kennedy was taking them on a jog to start, which was _hardly_ Bella's idea of a hard workout, but whatever. Xander, unlike Wood, had decided to go to work today, and Anya and Andrew had been dispatched to the shops with orders to get enough food to feed them all properly, _i.e._ something other than sweet crepes and bright yellow, fake-cheese-covered pasta. They'd taken Giles with them to exploit his automobile, leaving behind Dawn (who had escaped the morning jog with an argument that she could help Bella translate the Slayer Grimoire — a legitimate one, apparently, as she'd managed to make a bit of progress on the first section even before the others cleared out), Bella and Mira, Spike, Wood, and Willow and Buffy.

Buffy, of course, decided to pick up exactly where they'd left off the night before, examining the shadow-casters, while Wood filled the others in on the other contents of the kit. Willow had just started sorting through the jumble of amulets and Buffy speculating on the importance of the shadow-casters and the story they were meant to tell, when Dawn said, "I think it's an origin myth. The origin of the first Slayer."

Bella moved to peer over her shoulder. Between the crossings-out and arrows relating various phrases, she could make out:

_Something, something, not to hear/listen? alone but to be; seeing, not looking/watching_

_Of darkness? shadow? by light [throw] (probably shadow), the story is [speak] (told? the shadows tell the story?) something, something of/from shadow something the sun/light girl to herd/drive something (night animals? dark creatures? = demons?) away, to kill—_

"Seems plausible. So, kind of like an instruction manual for whatever those things are supposed to do?"

"I...guess? I don't know, maybe it's just, you know, writing down the story that goes along with the shadow-casters, explaining that that's what this story is, or something?"

"Well, what's it say, Dawnie?" Buffy asked, still examining the figures. "'Cause I have to say, I'm not liking the story these things tell. I mean, what's this? A chain? And this is definitely a girl, and a demon..."

"Ah... I _think_ this is _First there is the land,_ or maybe _Earth_ , and all this is probably elaborating on that. And...yeah, I think it goes with _that_ shadow-caster, see, there's this little illustration, here— And then _demons_ — I think that's demons — _come to the land_. ...Or possibly _from the land_. There were demons, in any case."

"Wait!" All eyes turned to Bella. "You're not doing it right. You have to actually _use_ the shadow thingies!" Dawn sniggered, but she was dead serious. She couldn't say _why_ , but she was pretty sure she was right. When they said _shadows tell the story_ , that meant you needed the shadows to tell the story properly. "Hang on, I'll grab a blanket to cover the window." The curtain wasn't thick enough to actually block the morning sun from the room. A candle or whatever was hardly likely to cast a decent shadow in that environment.

"You're being ridiculous," Mira said, as Bella prodded Wood to hang the thicker cloth from the curtain rod. (It really wasn't fair that she was so bloody short.)

"Like you've never been ridiculous about something before? Besides, Dawn's translation is kind of spotty—"

"Hey, if _you_ want to learn Sumero-Akkadian and translate this yourself, be my guest. I think the words I circled are actually Elamite, by the way, so good luck with that."

"Well if I'd had a _dictionary_ —" Dawn had brought a handful of reference texts down from her room, which Bella hadn't thought to try to search last night. "—I would have last night, but I didn't say you were doing a bad job, just that pictures will help draw it together. And also this part—" She pointed at the phrase Dawn had translated as _the shadows tell the story_. "—might be literal. I mean, _not only to hear but to live, not to look_ — as in, with your eyes — _but to See_ — as in, divination — I don't know _much_ Akkadian off the top of my head, but that's definitely a reference to Šamaš there, so that might also help... Was there a candle in that kit?" Rather than passing her a candle, or setting up the shadow-caster thing themselves, the locals just stared at her. "What?"

Zee sighed. "Are you honestly telling me you still don't understand that when you give people the impression you're a violent maniac with a disturbing propensity for slaughtering terrifying monsters, they're going to assume you're _not_ the sort of person who sits around studying dead languages for fun?"

Kind of. Mostly because it was a stupid thing to assume — her talent for violence and her talent for languages were completely unrelated. Besides, she _didn't_ just sit around studying Akkadian for fun. "Druella suggested I translate the Epic of Gilgamesh when I was...eight?" Actually, she'd suggested that Bella _couldn't_ translate the Epic of Gilgamesh, so obviously she'd had to prove the bitch wrong...which was probably what she'd wanted all along, since it had kept her occupied for _weeks_. "I think she was trying to tell me something." Probably not that if she acted audaciously enough, the gods might send her her very own Enkidu to be a worthy companion and distract her from annoying everyone else. "Candle?"

After a frankly ridiculous amount of time wasted poking around looking for lamp oil (there was a wick built into the centre plate-thing) — really, it was astonishing these people ever got _anything_ done — a candle was produced and lit, the shadow-caster base positioned in the middle of the table.

Bella flipped the switch to extinguish the electric lights. "Okay. Start from the beginning again."

"O...kay... So... First, there is the land." The first shadow cast depicted, perhaps, the profile of a mountain range, a crescent moon rising above it. Bella could almost hear the night noises of insects in the scrub, feel the heat radiating from the ground in the wake of the desert sunset and the pulse of drum-beats resonating in her chest. Yeah, she was going to go ahead and say the shadow thing was a good call.

"Does anyone else hear that?" Buffy asked. Wood nodded, looking very unnerved about it. "Okay, just checking..."

"Demons came to the land." A long-necked bipedal creature with an equally long tail was projected beside the mountains and the moon. It was oversized to dwarf them both, giving the impression that the world was entirely overwhelmed. The room suddenly seemed smaller around them, a silent growl (felt, not heard) trickling out of an invisible throat right behind her, nowhere to run. Tingling excitement crawled down her spine. The others' expressions were growing increasingly uneasy as they looked around for the source of the danger they felt, scared, but Bella couldn't stop grinning.

"You could at least try to pretend you aren't enjoying this," Zee hissed at her.

She giggled, earning _her_ a few uneasy, scared looks. "I really can't. Go on, Dawn."

"Then men came to the land." Wood added the next figure to the projector, turned it to show...a group of three smaller humanoid beings...carrying staves of some sort? With the same not-hearing sense by which she'd perceived the growling of the demon, she seemed to hear the drum-beats growing more complex, a song, a chant...a spell to drive back the dark and the demons which lurked there, she thought. Mostly because it was kind of annoying — vaguely threatening in an _I want to stab them in the neck_ way rather than an _oh, goodie, this will be fun_ way. It wasn't enough, though. The dark didn't retreat. The demons, like Bella, only grew more antagonistic, drawing in closer with a sense of teeth and claws at her neck. _That_ was fun-threatening. She bit the inside of her cheek trying not to laugh again, and failed miserably. (The taste of her own blood on her tongue didn't detract from the experience at all. If anything it actually heightened it.)

"I don't like this..." Wood muttered, but Dawn continued reading without prompting — they couldn't stop _now_ , with whatever this was.

"The men found a girl." The figure of the girl was small. Smaller than the men, even. As the demon loomed over the mountains and the moon, so they loomed over her, defenseless and scared, her fearful screams echoing in Bella's mind, if not her ears. She had a suspicion she knew exactly where this was going, and she didn't like it a bit.

Sure enough, the shadow cast to accompany the next phrase was a chain. "The men brought the girl to fight the demon — all demons. They chained her to the Earth." Probably not _literally_ , these shadow caster things had obviously been made some time well after the story originally occurred, in a time period that had had more advanced metalworking. The sense of helplessness, of coercion, of _being bound_ and _sacrificed_ , though, that it invoked — _that_ was the important thing. This girl, she didn't choose her fate. She was forged by these men into a weapon against the darkness, a _thing_ to them, to be defiled and broken down and rebuilt anew, chained to their will, their purpose — _enslaved_ her to defend the very people who violated her, who stole her autonomy—

It was one thing to _choose_ to sacrifice your place in the human world for power. It was a _very different_ thing to have it taken from you. A greater evil, Bella might argue, than the demons — who were by the admission of whoever had recorded this story, _there first_ — simply acting in accordance with their nature.

The fury the myth sparked in her was so great that she barely _heard_ Dawn saying something about darkness — it didn't matter, she _knew_ what had happened, what _had_ to have happened: they gave the girl to the Dark, and the girl became something more and less than human.

Like Bella.

She _did_ notice, though, when the shadow-caster began to spin on its own, the flickering shadows on the walls taking on a degree of animation, acting out the story again and again.

"What about darkness?" Buffy asked.

"You cannot be shown, you cannot just watch, you must see. See for yourself, if you're willing to make the exchange."

Bella peered over the girl's shoulder at the text, hoping to make out something more detailed about the "exchange", but there was nothing. She _knew_ there was nothing because the text had shifted, ancient ink twisting itself into English — which was both _really fucking neat_ , and also _how the hell did that work?!_

As the device spun faster, the shadows seemingly growing darker, more prominent, taking up more of the wall-space, a blindingly bright light appeared above the candle, growing and spreading to create a portal — which Buffy, seemingly entranced, moved toward, her progress halted by the fact that she would have to climb onto the table to get any closer, and Spike grabbing her arm to stop her when she tried to.

"Maybe think about this, Slayer?" he suggested.

She just shook her head. "I think I have to go in there."

"What?" Willow yelped. "No! No, Buffy! Where does it— It doesn't say that, does it, Dawn?"

Wood also had an objection. "Buffy, you don't even know what you're exchanging. You don't know if you're ready to—"

"That's the point," Buffy said, sounding all fae and distant, though far more determined than Bella might have expected. Enough that Spike let her go, took a step back, even.

" _No_! Buffy— We don't know where you're going, or how we'll get you back—" Willow protested, even as Buffy climbed onto the table, crouching beside the window of light.

"Let her go," Bella found herself saying.

Zee glared at her. " _Bella_!"

"It's her story. Let her live it. Let her actually _choose_ , instead of—" She cut herself off before she could go on a tirade about bastard shamans _using_ her to their own ends, that nameless first Slayer. "She has a right to know what she is, Zee."

That actually was a good enough point to make Zee stand down, though it also gave _Buffy_ pause. "What do you think I am?"

"A, that's the wrong question, and B, I can't tell you, you have to live it. I think that part was pretty clear. I mean, it's in English now and everything."

"No, Bella— Buffy, how will we get you _back_?" Willow reached out to grab Buffy's wrist, but she shook her off.

"You'll find a way." She hopped through the portal before anyone else could try to stop her, the portal vanishing as soon as she entered it.

For a long moment, they all just stared at the spot above the candle, the shadows still, now, and perfectly mundane.

Then there was a flash of light, a large, growling non-human being appearing in their midst, crouching on the table. It was somewhat reminiscent of a mountain troll in the colour of its skin and the tusks protruding from its mouth, though smaller, far more human in its proportions, and more obviously muscular — the exchange? Huh. Bella had thought that was referring to Buffy having to live through the ritual, endure its costs to reap its benefits. Oops.

It went straight for Zee, because of course it did. Spike was in a better position to intervene, shoving Zee behind him, toward the kitchen. "Oh, no you don't, bastard!"

He punched the creature in the face, because he was just as much a brawler as Buffy. Honestly, it was like none of these people had ever thought it might be a good idea to maybe learn how to fight _properly_ , even when they had _literally centuries_ to do so. Or, well, _decades_ , she supposed Spike wasn't really _that_ old. But _still!_ He was about ten times older than Bella, he could've put in at least as much effort as she had, learning to defend himself at some point or another.

Or at least learning to _dodge_ — the not-troll feinted, Spike fell for it, and within half a second was flying through the air to land on top of Zee. From her startled squeak, she probably wasn't actually hurt.

Which meant it was entirely okay to mock the position in which they'd fallen. "Hey, Spike, maybe wait until _after_ the fight to fuck my girlfriend?"

"Fuck you, Shadow Girl," he grumbled, rolling back to his feet.

The creature began to advance on him (and Zee) again, which meant it was probably time for Bella to do something about it. "Sorry, not interested in blokes who can't put up a decent fight," she quipped, stepping out of a shadow to aim a kick at the thing's knee. It was preternaturally quick, twisting out of the way to avoid a shattered joint, though she managed to block its retaliatory strike, sending a pulse of magic through the contact between them. Between that and the force of its own movement, its forearm suddenly developed an extra elbow.

It recoiled, then started backing away, drawing her into the living room for its greater freedom of movement. That was fine, they could do that. Spike helped Zee up, sent her running upstairs, and took the opportunity to take a swing at the back of the thing's head.

It ducked, elbowing him in the gut and throwing him into the couch, but it was distracted long enough for Bella to close in again, exchanging a quick flurry of blows. It didn't take long for it to realise that she had to touch it to break its bones with magic, and there were plenty of practice weapons lying around. It managed to grab a fake sword to fend her off and got her on the defensive, but by that point it was already dealing with one broken arm, a few cracked ribs, and a deep slice across one of the tendons of its left knee.

It still managed to drive her back, trap her in a corner, but Wood decided to get in on the game then, chucking a handful of throwing stars at it. It _screeched_ , turning to attack _him_ , which seemed like a great opportunity to stab it in a kidney (or where a kidney would be on a human, she didn't actually know whether this species even _had_ kidneys)...right up to the point it back-handed her — thing was fucking _quick_ — sending her flying at the nearest wall hard enough that she probably would've gone through it even if she _hadn't_ let herself fall far enough out of the mundane plane to lose tangibility.

She kept going, slipping into Shadows and re-orienting herself to step out of _its_ , startling it badly enough that it didn't notice that Spike had found a _real_ sword. She sank her knife into its chest, aiming for the heart from beneath the ribs (again, assuming it had one, and it was where she expected). He struck its head off before she figured out whether she'd hit her target, and she had to step quickly into Shadows again to avoid the thing falling on her. There were few things more embarrassing than getting trapped under three-hundred pounds of dead enemy.

She came back a split-second later, before the head came to a stop, rolling across the floor toward Wood. Both men were breathing hard, staring at the fallen monster as though uncertain whether it was going to get back up — despite having been _thoroughly_ decapitated, and possibly also stabbed in the heart.

"Okay, I take it back, maybe you can put up a decent fight," she said to Spike, who looked at her askance.

"Is it over?" Zee called from the top of the stairs, as though Bella would be complementing Spike if it weren't.

"I...think so," Willow called back, peeking in from the dining room.

"Yeah, it's dead," Wood confirmed, looking at the disembodied head as though entirely uncertain what ought to be done with it. Which was fair, because Bella also didn't really know what to do with it. Shove it into shadows and forget about it? That was what she'd done with the bodies the first night they'd arrived...


	17. Rescue Party of One

Before they figured out what to do with the body, the Potentials returned, which required a long, tedious review of what they'd missed — Kennedy was _not pleased_ to discover that they were down one Slayer — and before Wood and Spike managed to catch _them_ up, the shopping expedition returned as well, requiring them to start over. (Giles was even more annoyed at the absent Buffy than Kennedy.)

Bella, who hated tedious repetition even when it was _useful_ tedious repetition — casting a shield charm ten-thousand times, not fun, but she would do it; telling the same story she'd just lived through, _twice_ , fuck no — elected to join Dawn in translating more of the relevant text while Willow and Zee worked on getting the portal open to fetch Buffy back.

Based on the book — or a few of the phrases Dawn had copied out to scribble at, since the book itself had gone _annoyingly blank_ as soon as the portal had closed — Bella was _kind of_ thinking she might come back on her own. There were a few ways to interpret a particular passage, but it was _possible_ this was all meant to be a sort of test or orientation for a new Slayer. Relive the process of the making of the first one, and then come back to hunt down a "demon" — she liked the Sumero-Akkadian "night creatures" better, even if they _were_ talking about beings which were probably _actually_ demonic as well as "evil" — which had been given a head start, give them a real-world test of their abilities. Slayers, as Willow pointed out, usually worked alone, so there being three other people around with the skills to take out said trollish creature was probably not a situation that had come up before. It hadn't just vanished, as Bella might have expected it to when it was killed, if it was really just magic and memories projected into a deadly physical form, but that might be because Buffy hadn't come back yet — the spell was still ongoing.

That was _her_ working theory, at least. Dawn thought it was insane to let something like that loose on an unsuspecting town just to test the Slayer, and Bella really couldn't say it wasn't. It seemed reasonable to _her_ , but everyone knew she was mad.

Dawn and Willow subscribed to the theory that the "exchange" was a Slayer for a demon. (Which didn't make any sense — the Slayer, who was probably the intended recipient of this thing, seeing as it had been passed down from one to the next for ages, wouldn't have to deal with the "exchange" at all, if that was it.) Zee — who sided with Bella, because of course she did, Bella's theory _made sense_ — said they just wanted to feel like they had some control over the situation, like if they could get the portal open again and chuck the demon back in they could get Buffy back.

But she also said that since they were otherwise just killing time until Buffy finished whatever _she_ was doing in the pocket universe or shadow-land or whatever that portal had led to, there was really no harm in them trying to do exactly that.

Which was why the Potentials had been sent off to entertain themselves — they were just sitting around the back garden talking, so Bella had gone out for a while and found one with some dance experience (a style called hip-hop — she wasn't familiar with it, but it looked fun) and another one who was a gymnast, got them teaching the others some of the basic moves, which was at least _slightly_ more productive.

By the time she came back inside, Willow and Zee had come up with what seemed to Bella like an entirely different ritual, designed to co-opt the still-ongoing spell and end it early, which seemed...kind of like a bad idea? Not that she was going to try to _stop_ them, bad ideas tended to have fun consequences, she was just kind of surprised Zee was going along with it. Giles wasn't. He'd "gone for a walk to clear his head" when they'd (politely) told him to piss off. Since no one was supposed to go anywhere alone, Wood went with him, said he had something he wanted to talk to the older man about in private anyway, but that might've just been to let the Watcher save face about needing a minder and all. Andrew had joined Spike in trying to build a flamethrower (of which Bella _totally approved_ ). Kennedy and Anya were kind of just hovering around the ritual planning process bickering about nothing, which was boring, and Dawn was hogging the cool ancient grimoire, trying to figure out what the fuck had happened to the actual _text_ , so Bella returned to the very tedious, but very useful task of shaping a Turok-Han tibia into a proper knife.

Or, well, most of the shaping was done, honestly, it was really just the enchanting left to do, strengthening it and improving its natural flexibility to prevent shattering, giving the edge a sharpness it properly shouldn't have been able to hold, and attuning it to her own magic. Which was _much_ easier to do with a proper pen-knife than one of her own dueling blades — she'd nearly cut off a finger, making the first one.

In any case, she was nearly finished when Willow announced that she was ready to try their spell. Which necessitated a lot more sitting around talking about _what if something goes wrong_ and debating whether it was even a good idea for Willow to be trying to do a big ritual like this — it _was_ kind of a major step up from transfiguring a pencil or two. Giles (and Wood) had come back, and Xander — someone had called him and told him Buffy went on an adventure without them — so they had to air their entirely unnecessary and unwarranted objections for consideration and debate, and _on_ and _on_ , and—

"Enough!" Bella snapped, glaring at the lot of them. "How the _fuck_ do you people _ever_ get _anything_ done? _Ever?_ You lot think it's a bad idea for one reason or another, I think it's pointless, all that's been established for _hours_! Willow, if you're so determined to try this, just do it already."

"But what if—" Xander began, but Bella cut him off.

"No! No more talking! Just do it, or don't do it — Circe's tits, how hard is it to make a bloody _decision_ around here?!"

Dawn glared at her. "Yes. We're doing it. We need Buffy back."

Willow nodded with obnoxious meekness, inviting Giles to ask, _yet again_ , "Willow, are you _certain_ —"

"You heard the lady, Giles! We're doing the thing. Shut up or get out."

He shut up, eyeing the knife in Bella's hand as though he thought she might stab him to _make_ him shut up. (Which was silly — stabbing people, at least non-lethally, tended to make them scream in pain, which wasn't nagging and asking stupid questions, true, but also kind of annoying when she wasn't in the mood for playing around.)

Once they actually started _doing_ things, the whole setup went reasonably quickly — casting a circle around Willow and the shadow-caster, the focus of the ritual, to contain the portal, should anything go wrong — it was just _painfully slow_ getting them to actually _start_ anything.

And then the actual spellcasting itself was kind of boring. Lots of Willow sitting there meditating and chanting the invocation they'd come up with — Bella had corrected their Latin, which they were using instead of a language any of the locals actually _spoke_...because reasons — and very little anything else for the better part of twenty minutes. Which was the point Willow lost her patience, giving herself over to Magic with a suddenness that seemed to scare herself.

She shrieked, power rushing through the room, forcefully enough it knocked everyone who was hovering over the witch off their feet. Bella, sitting and still working on her knife, looked up in surprise when she felt it. Willow's eyes had gone solid black with power, like Tom channelling the Dark, though she still seemed to be in control to some degree. She continued with the Latin for another minute or so (improvising, poorly) before declaiming, "Screw it! Mighty forces, I suck at Latin, okay? But that's not the issue! I'm the one in charge, and I'm telling you open up! Portal! Now!"

Which was a brilliant incantation if Bella had ever heard one. Tom despaired of her complete lack of respect for or interest in the formalities and traditions of high ritual, but she failed to see the point in adding all the unnecessary frills and dragonshite, especially when she already _had_ magic's attention. This was precisely why most Aspects considered Tom a charming, gentlemanly sort of ritualist, and Bella a rather rude, obnoxious child. Not that they _really_ expected anything other than for Eris's dedicants to attempt to drive them up a metaphorical wall. Especially if they were also a _Black_. (The House had something of a reputation when it came to their sense of self-preservation and respect for authority — by which she meant they didn't have any.)

"It's not happening, Will," Xander said, rather prematurely in Bella's opinion. Enforcing one's will on Magic could be a bit like attempting to move a heavy object — you had to push at it for a bit before it would budge, but it got easier after you finally got it started. From how relieved he sounded, though, he was probably hoping she'd just quit before anything happened.

"Give her time," Kennedy snapped. "She's getting it!"

"Or something's getting her." Oh, her hair was starting to go dark, now, too — that was an external aura manifestation she'd never seen before. _Neat_. "Will, think you better back up a little."

"No, keep going, this is just getting good. Though, if you're listening, Prewett, remember what I said about trying to steal Willow."

"Bella, perhaps now is not the best time for your input," Zee said, sounding a bit alarmed. She leaned in closer, crouching down to be on a level with the witch. "Willow? Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

Kennedy, apparently concerned by her concern, knelt on Willow's other side, just in time for the black-eyed witch to mutter, " _Fine_ ," through gritted teeth, hands suddenly reaching out toward the two of them, dragging energy out of them to fuel the portal that shimmered into being before her.

Xander swooped in to intervene, physically dragging her out of the circle, which honestly seemed reckless to _Bella_ , but did disrupt her hold on the power. The connection between herself, Kennedy, and Zee vanished, as did the darkness that had seeped into her eyes and hair. The portal, somehow, remained stable — Bella _would_ have expected it to collapse as soon as the spell was disrupted, but then, she supposed it _was_ somehow integrated with the first spell, which she suspected was still in force as well. (She would _love_ for someone to model the arithmancy of what the hell was going on here. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be a _thing_ in this universe.)

Kennedy was sitting up, conscious, though she looked rather shocked, in the _literally in shock_ sense. Zee had fallen, sprawled on her side like an artist's model wearing entirely too much clothing. "Zee, you okay?"

She flopped over onto her back to stare blankly at the ceiling. "Ow. Willow, do you recall me asking whether we ought to establish a power-sharing circle for this project?"

"What? I— Oh, my— Are you okay? Kennedy? Kennedy, can you hear me?"

Willow fought herself free of Xander's arms, crowding around Kennedy and Zee along with practically everyone else in the room. Spike in particular seemed to be concerned about Zee.

"Back off, Billy," Bella advised him, smirking at his affront over the nickname. "If she's handing out ' _I told you so_ 's, she's fine. Go get a glass of water for her or something."

He did, though he helped Bella get her into a chair, first.

"Need a pick-me-up?" she offered, perching on its arm. Zee wasn't _nearly_ as comfortable with subsumption as Bella — or rather, she wasn't at all comfortable being on the _giving_ end of such a power transfer, especially when she wasn't expecting it. She also wasn't able to handle as much magic as Bella, period, which meant she couldn't _take_ as much if, say, Angel decided to light them up for giggles, but that was a matter of their relative channelling thresholds, not Zee's phobia about people taking away what made her _herself_.

She nodded rather pathetically, lacing their fingers together, which was more than enough contact for Bella to give her a bit of energy, but not at all the way Zee _preferred_ to do this sort of thing. Basically, holding hands was the Zee equivalent of begging _pretty please, make me feel better, because I'm scared and hurt and I can't pretend to be all confident like I normally do at the moment, and I need help_ , and more of an indication of general patheticness than her weak little nod. It was important to reassure Zee that she _belonged_ and was _wanted_ at times like this — _i.e._ when she wasn't able to convince herself of those facts. Bella didn't pretend to understand this, but she trusted Tom when he told her it was important, and she was pretty sure the fact that she made a point of taking care of Zee when she was being a neurotic mess and stopping her from falling into a spiral of desperate insecurity, despite not getting it at all, actually meant it counted for more than if she _had_. (Which she also didn't understand.)

In any case, going to a little extra effort to do this in a way Zee liked, when Bella didn't care much one way or the other, was a pretty good way to remind her silly, overly emotional girlfriend that Bella _did_ care about her (insofar as she cared about anyone), and certainly wanted to keep her around and shite. She slipped off the arm of the chair to settle on Zee's lap, hips trapped between her knees, breathing power into her with a _very_ thorough snog.

Which was, of course, interrupted before things could proceed as they were wont to do from this point — they _were_ in a room full of other people at the moment (which didn't bother _Bella_ , but making other people uncomfortable was kind of a turn-off for Zee). Spike gave them a deep, suggestive chuckle, coming to lean against the back of the chair with the glass of water he'd gone to fetch. "You know, Shadow Girl, if you wanted a bit of privacy to get _intimate_ , you could've just said so."

"Don't be ridiculous, Spike — if we were _getting intimate_ , as you so euphemistically put it, I'm sure Zee would prefer you join us."

Spike appeared to have nothing to say to that, which was kind of disappointing. What the hell had he been doing for the last _fifteen decades_ if not learning to fight _or_ coming up with witty retorts? Zee, meanwhile, gave her a soft _I know what you're doing_ smile. "I love you too, Bee."

"Feeling better?"

She nodded, accepting the glass of water and giving Spike's wrist a reassuring squeeze. "Are Kennedy and Willow...?"

Bella moved back to the arm of the chair so Zee could assess the room. Dawn and Xander were fussing over Willow, with Giles and Anya focused on Kennedy — obviously they had a better understanding of what had just happened. Willow herself was trying to shake off her friends to get to her girlfriend, but when she did Kennedy flinched away from her touch. "I think they're fine. And it actually worked. So, yay team."

"Yes," Giles added, obviously looking to change the subject away from the awkward interaction between the energy-stealing witch and her other victim. "So, what say we send that fellow back to whence he came?" he suggested, tipping his head to the doorway into the dining room, where they'd stashed the NHB's body.

It seemed most everyone else also wanted to move past the little _incident_ , there, so in short order both head and body had been chucked back through the portal.

Nothing happened.

"Er...maybe it didn't work because it was dead?" Dawn suggested. Which was ridiculous — clearly it hadn't worked because _that wasn't how it worked_.

"I suppose I could go check it out, if you want to try exchanging a _living_ demon for your Slayer." Granted, she was pretty sure Buffy would come back when she was ready, but she was also bored, and everyone was being tedious. There were far too many humans around, and she'd gotten out of the habit of acting civilised over the past however long they were in hell, and she was starting to get frustrated enough with them being so fucking _slow_ , about _everything_ , that if Dawn was giving her an excuse to go explore some sort of shadowmagic Slayer trial thing she was definitely going to take it.

"What?" Zee objected at once. " _No_! Bella! How would _you_ get back?!"

Bella shrugged. "Go through whatever trials the Slayer is supposed to, relive the creation of the first one, or whatever, and come back however you're meant to?" Presumably it was more obvious from the other side.

"And if that's _not_ how it works?!"

"Well, obviously whatever this thing is, it's rooted in the local shadowlands. Even if I need the portal to find wherever Buffy is, it should be possible to just walk back." Really, she could _probably_ walk straight to Buffy, now that she was out there somewhere for Bella to orient herself, she just hadn't wanted to suggest it earlier because she was pretty sure the Slayer didn't need rescuing, and interfering with a ritual in progress was almost always a Bad Idea. But since they'd already pretty seriously _started_ interfering... "And you do know how to re-open the portal now, just set up a power-sharing circle first next time. I mean, assuming it even collapses when I cross over. Might not, seems pretty stable. I think it should be fine."

"Well of course _you'll_ be fine, you're _always_ fine! But— What about me? You can't just _leave_ me here! And what if you trigger the thing again, and instead of Buffy, we get another N.H.B. here trying to kill us all?"

"Get a couple crossbows aimed at the spot before I go? I'm telling you, Zee, you worry too much."

"Let's take a vote," Xander suggested, and then in the same breath, "I vote no. We're lucky Willow didn't just take a flying leap into the crazy-pool again, let's just—"

"No! Xander, we need to get Buffy back!" Dawn interrupted. "And if we _don't_ use the portal, then all that, with Willow, was for nothing!"

"Having done one terribly dangerous thing is hardly justification for doing a second terribly dangerous thing, Dawn," Giles said, all adult and disapproving of her reasoning. Which _was_ lacking something, logically, but Bella didn't care at the moment.

Zee knew it, too. "Bella, _please_. Don't leave me here," she asked, giving her begging puppy eyes.

"Do you want to come with me?"

"No, I don't want _you_ to go, either!"

"I'll come _back_ , Zee. I _promise_." Bella always kept her promises — the ones she made with the intent of keeping them, anyway. "Probably before morning, even. I mean, give that thing too much of a head-start and you wouldn't be able to catch up, so."

"Bellatrix, are you seriously considering—"

"Of _course_ she is, Giles! All the Blacks are mad, impulsive idiots, it's like, their _thing_." Bella smirked at the perfectly accurate generalisation, wondering if Anya had ever met any of them _other_ than Angel and herself. "Hey, I didn't say it doesn't work for you!"

"I didn't say you did. I'm not just _considering_ it, though, I'm definitely doing it. I've spent _far_ too much time today sitting around waiting for you people to make up your minds about shite." Spike gave an amused snort behind her. Apparently he agreed. "So, I'll see you later," she said firmly, hopping off the arm of the chair and crossing to the portal. She looked back to see Zee looking equal parts scared and resigned (along with the rest of them in various stages of disbelief and disapproval), so she added, " _Promise_ ," again, before stepping through.


	18. Into the Breach

" _So, I'll see you later," she said firmly, hopping off the arm of the chair and crossing to the portal. She looked back to see Zee looking equal parts scared and resigned (along with the rest of them in various stages of disbelief and disapproval), so she added, "Promise," again, before stepping through._

And immediately regretting it.

The other side of the portal was some kind of nightmare hell-scape — perversely bright for a place accessed _through shadows_ , heat and light beating down on her almost painfully, reflecting blindingly off sand and rock.

 _Bleh, desert_...

She didn't mind the heat or the dryness of the air, Sunnydale was only slightly cooler and more humid, but even _before_ she'd become shadow-kin she hadn't been terribly fond of the sun. She had an unpleasant tendency to burn (she was already a little pink from the twenty minutes or so she'd spent out with the Potentials earlier), and since she _had_ become a dark creature she could feel it _dragging_ at her, weighing her down and sapping her energy — making her _slow_.

(Like, _normal person_ slow. It was _awful_.)

The only good thing about bright light was that it cast dark shadows.

She didn't even bother looking for a bush or something in the barren, sun-soaked plane, just let herself fall through her _own_ shadow, taking refuge in the Dark.

 _So much better_...

Out of curiosity, she reached out, seeking the familiarity of Zee's magic to orient herself — it would kind of suck if she really _couldn't_ get back. Thankfully, she could still feel her, further away than she expected but _there_ , at least. Which probably meant that, yes, this was some kind of pocket dimension or dream-memory simulation thing. Good. And even better, she could still access the knives and supplies — mostly water in those odd, transparent bottles the locals seemed to favour over metal canteens — she'd stashed in shadow-pockets since her arrival in Buffy's plane.

The Slayer was much closer, in a deeply shadowy area not far away in mundane terms. A cave, perhaps? She supposed she couldn't really say how far it would be in _this_ place, but then again she didn't suppose it really _mattered_.

She lurked on the border between the planes long enough to determine that there were three magical presences in the same area, coordinating with each other to control a fourth, more aggressive one, actively engaged in some sort of altercation with Buffy. If Bella had to guess, she would say the "men" from the shadow-story were compelling the "demon" to comply with their plan as much as they had the "girl".

Figured, really — what sort of spiritual entity would _want_ to be subsumed by some human girl so that she could more effectively kill its kind?

Didn't mean it wasn't a total dick move. Especially since the girl apparently hadn't wanted to do this any more than the demon.

Or...had she?

Because Buffy was resisting the spirit pretty effectively, and Buffy was about the least magically competent person Bella had encountered in this universe. Stubborn, sure, but...

"Did this go better the first time?" she asked, stepping out of the Shadows. The words sounded odd to her ears, more like "speaking" or "listening" _in_ Shadows or speaking Parsel, rather than anything to do with proper _sound_ , but whatever. Still got the attention of the three staff-wielding arses. And Buffy, _and_ the spirit, for that matter.

Buffy, struggling to escape the manacles chaining her wrists to the floor, was the first to recover, at least enough to ask, "Bella? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, well, Dawn was worried about you, and we already killed the Non-Human Being I'm pretty sure in hindsight you were supposed to hunt down once you get back, and Willow cracked the portal open again, and everyone was being boring and tedious, so I volunteered to come see what was taking so long."

" _This is...very irregular_ ," one of the men said. His actual _words_ were in some African-sounding language, one of the ones with click sounds, somewhat reminiscent of Gobbledygook (though entirely unrelated), but the meaning was carried on magic, only furthering the impression that this was kind of like some sort of dream. " _Who are you?_ "

"Bellatrix Black. Well met. You didn't answer _my_ question."

" _A Slayer?"_

" _A_ dark _Slayer?!"_

" _But...there can be only one!_ "

...What? Oh, right, they wouldn't be hearing her words directly, either. " _Bellatrix_. It's a name. I'm not a Slayer." She gave the trio of spellcasters a sharp grin. "I'm a hell of a lot more dangerous, for one thing. So did the first Slayer volunteer for the honour or not?"

" _It is not an_ honour _, it is a_ duty _, to be chosen to protect the people,_ " one of the men said, very sternly.

Another admitted, " _But, yes, she chose to take the strength of the demon for herself, to use its power against them, a light in the darkness. Hope for humanity._ "

Bella couldn't help smirking a bit at that — the Blacks called themselves the fire at the heart of the Dark too, fascinating and unattainable, luring others deeper into the shadows. "Hope can be a dangerous thing, you know. But, just to be clear, she's bound in case she loses her fight to subsume the demon? not because you had to force her to become your weapon?"

The first man nodded. " _She was chosen for her fierceness and her courage, and because she had the strength of will to master the demon._ "

"Uh-huh. Or to resist your forcing it on her, apparently. Didn't occur to you at any point to _tell_ Summers exactly what's supposed to happen here?"

The men exchanged an uncomfortable look.

"I'm gonna say knocking me out and chaining me up told me all I needed to know!"

Yeah, called it. "No idea why they knocked you out — maybe you were just being annoying — but you're supposed to accept the spirit, harness its power for yourself. That's what the first Slayer did. That's where your strength comes from." And _only if you're willing to make the exchange_ obviously meant you weren't supposed to enter this thing if you weren't going to follow through. Bella would be willing to bet the whole thing would be fucked up even if she _hadn't_ crashed the party, because Buffy hadn't known what she was getting into. Partly because she didn't know how ritual magic worked _in general_ , but.

"Yeah, well, no thanks! I'm not going to– to become less _human_ , just for more _power_. I _just_ got done telling these jerks, we'll _find another way_."

Seriously? "You're already not human." Bella had realised that after _one_ exchange of blows. "Humans can't break a vampire's face, or behead a Turok-Han with fucking barbed wire — totally badass, by the way. But if you think, oh, I don't know, _Wood_ , even, could pull off something like that, you're deluding yourself." And Wood was the most muscular of the humans around the Slayer. "I don't even think most humans could hit me hard enough to lift me into the air, especially with as little leverage as you had with that fucking shovel. Those _instincts_ you keep telling the Potentials they have? Where did you think they came from?" Granted, Bella hadn't given the source of the Slayer's power much thought herself, but finding out that it was a subsumption ritual wasn't exactly a _surprise_. " _Humans_ aren't _predators_ , generally speaking. Obviously you're just reenacting the first Slayer's choice, embracing the strength that already belongs to you, and _accepting_ that you're not human."

" _No._ I'm not going to– to submit to this! If it's my choice, I'm saying _no_!" She jerked her arms free, chains breaking at that particular moment likely more due to her will impacting this constructed dreamscape, whatever it was, than physical strength. "You said it yourselves, I'm the _last_ Slayer! This– This pathetic, desperate attempt to force innocent girls to fight and kill for you— _It ends with me_! And it ends _now_!"

" _So be it_ ," said the one who seemed to be their spokesman.

The men stopped their spell, silence almost deafening in the wake of the constant, heartbeat drumming of staves on stone. The smoke-like wraith halted its attempts to force its way down Buffy's throat, hovering indecisively above them, the play paused, and entirely derailed.

"Well?" she demanded. "How do we get home?"

Bella shrugged. "I could pull you back through the Dark, but I'm not a big fan of the idea of pulling under someone who could break my neck if they panic too badly. Honestly, I was kind of thinking I'd just take your place and complete whatever trial you were undergoing in your stead and let whatever this is play out. You know, let the spell end as it's meant to. Pretty sure it'll kick us out when it's done."

" _You are not an acceptable candidate_ ," the lead-shaman informed her.

"Well, _obviously_." Actually, it was probably debatable whether she fit the bill for a Slayer — she _had_ dedicated herself to Eris in exchange for the power to protect herself and Meda, and she _had_ assimilated raw darkness into herself, in much the same way the first Slayer would have had to to subsume this spirit, but she hadn't really _expected_ them to approve. After all, she couldn't exactly sacrifice her humanity _again_. "But I can play the role, or you can end this play early. Those are the only options the _actual_ Slayer, here, is giving us."

The men conferred briefly, muttering to each other privately — _i.e._ without projecting their meaning to the girls.

" _What the hell do you think you're doing, Bella?_ " Buffy hissed.

"Acting out a part you apparently think you're too good for, and getting us out of here. I wasn't lying when I said Dawn's worried about you, and if I don't come back reasonably quickly Zee's going to throttle me when we do get back. And not in a sexy way."

Before the older girl could think of a response to that, the shamans' little huddle broke up. " _Very well_."

The scene sort of _shuddered_ , and then the chains were fastened around Bella's wrists, intact again, the staves drumming, wraith circling _her_ as Buffy watched in horror.

"What are you doing?! Stop it!"

"It's fine, Buffy," Bella assured her, giggling slightly. She sat down — it was almost always better to do mind magic when you _weren't_ in a position to fall and knock yourself out the second you got too focused on _inside_. "Okay, I'm ready. Go for it."

" _The first Slayer was not so insouciant about this process_ ," the second shaman informed her.

Yes, well, Bella had a pathological inability to take things too seriously. "I made this choice years ago, why should I be concerned?" Honestly, if it were _really_ dangerous, Eris would tell her as much. Yes, she was still annoyed at Bella for going on holiday in such a dangerous universe and therefore not talking to her nearly as much as usual, but it was a _petty_ sort of _not talking_. The worst that was likely to happen was Bella giving herself a serious migraine. And the _best_? Well...she really had no idea, that was what made it fun.

The men let the wraith answer for them, directing it to pour itself into her, not entirely unlike the way she'd breathed life into Zee earlier. It hurt, which she hadn't expected, pain radiating outward from her lungs as it invaded her blood, a stinging, burning sort of sensation. If she had to guess, she'd say it was trying to alter her body to be more hospitable to itself before attacking her mind, which was absolutely _not_ going to happen...unless it was planning on making her a bit taller, she would be fine with that. Actually, she wasn't sure how long any impression it made on her fundamental identity and therefore her body might _last_ anyway, since this wasn't... _entirely_ real? she didn't think? But if it wanted to make her stronger and faster, like Buffy, that might also be kind of neat.

The way Eris had re-shaped her mind when she'd made her dedication meant that she had to make an effort to relax her defences enough to let anyone use traditional mind-magic on her. Tom could weasel his way in, but he'd had _years_ to study her, and had known her _before_ she'd made her dedication, which she figured helped. Sally, Angel's terrifyingly powerful mind-mage companion, had figured out a different way in all of two seconds, but Tom had helped her practise resisting that method. And she didn't think this thing, whatever it was, was quite as skilled as a metamorph who'd been practising legilimency for _eleven-hundred_ years, especially if it thought it would soften her up by going after her physical body first.

She took a moment to reinforce her own self-image as she would if she were resisting a transfiguration, before letting it in just enough to communicate that she was open to compromising on her physical form. Of course it took the opportunity to try to tear into her psychic presence, but that was more or less expected, and the thing about trying to legilimise a perfect occlumens was, well...

_You realise that getting into my mind just means you're trapped in here with me now, right?_

She might be utter shite at _offensive_ mind magic — she was pretty sure she didn't stand a chance of actually subsuming the thing, seeing as it had its own consciousness with which to resist her efforts — but the invasive presence wasn't going to be able to possess or consume _her_ mind _either_. Isolating it was bloody child's play, and if by some miracle it managed to disrupt her hold on it and actually damage her, _Eris_ actually _was_ capable of subsuming it, so.

An inarticulate thought/feeling radiated from the wraith's presence. If Bella had to put it into words, she would say it was something like a cautious, _you're really fucking weird._

 _That's the general consensus, yes. So, let's talk about you. What were you planning on doing with my body? Because, not sure if you were listening, but I'm willing to compromise on shite like strength and speed. Durability, too, probably, I think you'd have to improve that to actually_ use _any degree of Buffy-like strength._

Its response was the gnashing of sharp teeth, the taste of blood and crunch of bone, sharp claws rending flesh, and _desire_ , to hunt, to kill, to _destroy_ — A conjured image of the lead shaman, terrified, Bella's claws paring skin from bone, tearing his arms off and eating his face, followed by the others, and Buffy, then the tribe they were attempting to protect, oldest to youngest, saving the best for last — little children, their blood was the sweetest.

_Mmm, yeah, have to leave out Buffy, I'm expected to bring her back, but if you want to go on a rampage around here, that could be fun._

Confusion.

_Also, Zee gets stroppy with me when I let my fingernails get too long, so I'm thinking claws would be problematic._

The smoke-creature projected an image of Bella as it apparently perceived her — small and weak with her soft, human skin, no teeth or claws to defend herself.

 _Oh, I don't know, I think I do alright,_ she responded, before flooding it with memories of Valhalla — the perspective first-person, of course, but it was still more than obvious that she was perfectly capable of killing any number of enemies with no teeth or claws of her own. (Knives were kind of cheating like that.)

She fancied the thing might be a bit impressed, and not nearly as disapproving as she might have expected, what with her killing beings who were likely natural allies of her guest.

Confusion. Reiterating the desire to hunt and kill. Humans, non-humans, it didn't matter.

She had the impression that it had taken exception to the local humans in particular because they'd torn it from its own body — a four-legged, vaguely feline(?) body — and trapped it in a fucking _box_ , but after _they_ were dead, it would happily continue to hunt and kill _all_ lesser creatures.

Oh. Well, okay, then.

 _These ones are off-limits_ , she informed it, presenting images and magical impressions of the few people she actually _respected_ — Tom, Angel, a few other acquaintances and allies — followed by all the people who were hers to protect — Zee, Meda, Cissy, her baby cousins. _They are not lesser, they are_ ours _._

It understood that, had some sense of pack or pride, though Bella didn't get the impression there were more like it out there. Must've been possessing an animal, picked it up there.

 _Also, the humans will gang up on us and hunt_ us _down if we kill other humans openly._

That was baffling. Surely that was simply an opportunity to kill more humans. Humans, after all, were weak, pathetic creatures, why could they not—

 _I know, it's tempting. Morrigan knows I'd love to reenact Valhalla in the middle of Charing, but those "weak, pathetic creatures" managed to tear you from your body and enslave your spirit, if you recall. They have tools, and magic. We could kill_ many _of them, but not_ all _. And we can't fight anyone if we're_ dead _. Speaking of which, our priority at the moment is_ this _thing._ She gave it an impression of Hot Shite. _It offended me, so we're going to ruin its plans, even if this means killing fewer people. If it's any consolation, they wouldn't have been challenging prey._ (She got the impression that, generally speaking, her new roommate hunted for fun, not food.)

Bella had the distinct impression that the thing was pouting at her, but she was distracted from needling it over that fact by a flash of light bright enough to see through her eyelids, and Buffy creeping cautiously closer to her. "Bella? Are you...okay?"

She opened her eyes — back in the Summers's front parlour, surrounded by concerned muggles and a very annoyed Zee, all according to plan — and gave the Slayer a bright grin. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Er...evil demon smoke trying to possess you? Ringing any bells?"

"I think we've managed to reach an accord." Not that the dream-memory of the wraith was in a position to negotiate. Really, she was just dictating terms.

"You've _reached an accord_. With an evil demon trying to– to—" Xander stuttered to a halt, staring at Bella as though she'd grown a second head.

"Well, yes? I think you forget, I _am_ an evil demon. We kind of have a lot in common. I mean, fighting things and killing them tend to overlap quite a lot, so. How long was I gone?"

It was Zee who answered, glowering at her. "Long enough for the First Slayer to show up, knock out Spike and Robin, break Rupert's arm — Anya's taken him to have it set by a healer — and run off into the night."

Wood was still unconscious on the sofa, and Spike was glaring at her as though he had a massive hangover, so probably not very long at all, then. "Wait. So that spell thought that the _First Slayer_ would be a good challenge for me to hunt down? I think I might be flattered."

"That is so incredibly not the point," Dawn said, looking up at the sister she was clinging to. "Buffy, you need to go after her, stop her. She— I don't _think_ she wanted to hurt us, but she was scared, and—"

"—and panicked primeval Slayer could do a lot of damage out here in the real world, what with the superpowers and the cornered animal thing." Buffy finished, sighing heavily. "Alright. I'll go find her."

"Um...and then what?" Willow asked. "Because, no offense, Buffy, but the First Slayer is a lot scarier than you, and you're not gonna _kill_ her, er...are you? And you two are already back, and we could probably get it open again, but I'm not sure I wanna see what comes out of that portal if we throw _her_ in, so..."

Buffy hesitated, so Bella took it upon herself to explain, "It's not _really_ the First Slayer, just a construct. I'm pretty sure she'll unravel eventually even if we don't kill her."

"But how long is that going to take? And how many more people is she going to hurt before it happens?" Xander asked, which were questions Bella _didn't_ have answers to.

"And we still have to do something about her in the meanwhile. I don't know, maybe we can knock her out and chain her up in the basement? Or if she's just some magic construct thingy, Willow, could you un-construct her somehow? We'll figure out something, but first I have to _find_ her."

"Uh, excuse me, I'm pretty sure hunting down the First Slayer was _my_ challenge," Bella pointed out. Yes, she had kind of helped kill _Buffy's_ challenge, but in all fairness, they hadn't realised at the time that that's what it was. Also, protecting Zee, especially from dangers _Bella_ dragged her into, was _definitely_ her responsibility. So, maybe she couldn't reasonably say Buffy _couldn't_ try to hunt down the First Slayer — protecting this town from supernatural dangers was _her_ job, after all — but she was fairly certain she was well within her rights to say, "I'll go with you."


	19. Hello, Enkidu

" _Uh, excuse me, I'm pretty sure hunting down the First Slayer was my challenge. I'll go with you."_

Okay, that was it!

Mira could _almost_ understand that Bella didn't understand how utterly _terrifying_ it was to have someone just walk up and _steal_ the energy of her very _life_ from her, without so much as a by your leave. Bella was an endless well of manic energy, her channelling capacity was bloody absurd, and the nature of her connection to Eris made it far more difficult for her to exhaust the reserves of magic which were integral to maintaining her life, her "soul", than it was for anyone else.

Tom and Angel had given her viv when they'd visited Miskatonic last summer. You couldn't _pay_ Mira enough to touch that shite — the whole point of it was to 'burn' part of your own life force to achieve a high like being lit up, but without an external energy source. It left normal people completely drained and strung out afterward, but Bella hadn't been even slightly existentially exhausted when she finally came down. (Post-viv crashes were notoriously bad, another reason Mira would never, ever take it, made the shite even more addictive.) She _had_ been all afterglow-y and snuggly, like she got when Tom actually managed to wear her out, and said she felt a bit _off_ , but _she didn't see what the big deal was_. She thought absolutely nothing of giving Mira a bit of magic or using _soulfire_ as a bloody _weapon_ — which was _insane_ , even on a scale of Bella's usual shenanigans.

So she understood, intellectually, that Bella didn't think it was really that bad to have someone come along and take a fucking bite out of you, metaphysically speaking. She'd probably object on principle, if it were her, but it wouldn't _bother_ her. She also didn't understand fear in general, and the fact that replacing the energy Mira had lost did absolutely nothing to console her over the fact that she was still _entirely vulnerable_ to it being stolen _again_.

It was _literally impossible_ for Bella to understand how difficult it was for Mira to sit here calmly, in the same room as Willow, and act like nothing was wrong, that she didn't want to be as far from the native witch as humanly possible. (Kennedy was currently hiding in her bedroom, a position Mira found herself envying deeply.) She _knew_ that. Mira couldn't really hold Bella responsible for not realising how tense she was, especially since she _knew_ she wasn't acting any differently than usual. But that didn't mean she wasn't still _very_ annoyed at Bella for bloody well _leaving_ her, when she _should_ be able to put it together that Mira was _unsteady_ at the moment, even if it was just an intellectual understanding of the concept.

She could _almost_ forgive her girlfriend skipping off to butt into a challenge designed for the Slayer. If anyone were to do so, she was the obvious candidate. She was, after all, very good at killing things, and if the "First Slayer", as Dawn had called her, was any standard by which to judge, Bella was probably closer to the ideal of a Slayer than Buffy. And Mira _knew_ Bella had been bored and frustrated with everyone else being slow and indecisive, and she'd likely thought she'd done enough to make Mira feel better, but _immediately running off_ , despite Mira _explicitly telling her_ that she didn't want Bella to go, had pretty much cancelled out any reassurance that she cared which had been implied by her unprompted snogging, earlier. (It was kind of adorable, Bella trying to be thoughtful, and Mira meant that in the most patronising way possible — she was bloody terrible at it.)

Yes, she'd promised to come back, and she _did_ keep her promises, but she couldn't have known that she'd only be gone for twenty minutes or so, and the fact was she'd prioritised running off to go on an adventure with Buffy over staying with Mira.

And then she'd come back, casually noting that she was harbouring some dark spirit in her mind as they spoke, that she'd _come to an accord with it,_ which was unsettlingly odd — given the choice of fighting or diplomacy, Bella, the Bella _Mira_ knew, would pick _fighting_ , every time.

And now she wanted to just go running off with _Buffy_ , _again_?

 _No!_ Mira wouldn't stand for it! She crossed the space between them in two quick steps to smack the thoughtless bitch across the face, as hard as she could.

"Mira!" Buffy exclaimed, but Mira ignored her. She knew it looked bad, her hitting Bella, but she _really_ didn't care. Bella would never _fight back_ , because she knew Mira couldn't defend herself, but she was quick enough to stop her, or even just avoid the slap if she wanted to, and compared to the violence her family dealt one another on a regular basis, that was nothing. Fuck, compared to the shite she and Tom called _foreplay_ , that was nothing!

Rather than make some excuse, or inform Mira drily that she had no idea why she was being slapped, Bella just blinked at her for a long moment. "That...didn't hurt even as much as I thought it would."

Oh, it didn't, did it? "Liam, be a love and hit Bella for me?"

"Do I look like I've got a death wish, Mira?" _Traitor_. "Somehow I doubt Shadow Girl's just going to stand there for me to hit her anyway, and I've already been knocked out by enough tiny, terrifying teenage girls for one night, thanks."

"I might, actually. Let you have a free shot, I mean. See just how far this whole Slayer-echo thing goes. I mean, I'm pretty sure it won't _last_ , but it is kind of neat. But, just to be clear, why are you hitting me?"

"You _left_ me, Bellatrix!"

"I _came back_!"

"That doesn't change the fact that you left me in the first place, and I was scared, and _worried_ , and I didn't know how long you'd be gone, and—" She took a deep breath, fighting to keep her composure, shored up her defences against Prewett — the stupid thing had been whispering at the back of her mind since Bella left the first time, sounded so much like her own weaknesses and insecurity she hadn't realised that it was there at all until it suggested that Bella had left to hurt her _deliberately_ , which was _not_ something Bella was capable of doing. That sort of emotional manipulation was entirely foreign to her, Mira had literally _never_ known her to attempt it, with anyone, ever. "—and you didn't _listen_ to me. You left me _alone_ , even when I asked you not to go. And now you want to leave me _again_ , go running off after someone who might actually be a match for you, and— _You can't leave me_ , Bella."

Understanding dawned on Bella's face. _Yes, you idiot, this is still me being neurotic and insecure, and all I want is for you to love me._ Not that Bella really _loved_ , love was a human emotion, but it was hardly as though Mira was the first person to long for something impossible. She would settle for devotion and loyalty, for being the only person in Bella's life approaching an actual _friend_ , and a higher priority to the tiny madwoman than anyone but the children of her House. (Tom had magnanimously agreed that Mira's needs were more important than his own...mostly because explicitly ordering Bella to put Mira first meant she was still doing his bidding before anyone else's, and he was an egotistical bastard like that.)

" _Oh_. I apologise. It wasn't my intention to imply that I don't care about you. I _did_ bring you with me _here_ , you know, on holiday, because I enjoy your company and didn't want to abandon you at home. I just got carried away, and wasn't thinking about how my actions might be interpreted. Is there something I can do to make it up to you...?"

Mira sniffed. _Got carried away_ , that was a nice way to put it — wasn't thinking _about Mira_ , more like. "After this business with the First Slayer is settled, you can make it up to me by coming to bed with me and holding me until I fall asleep, and actually _staying_ there all night." She really _hated_ waking up in the middle of the night to realise that Bella had snuck away to do something more exciting than watch Mira sleep — even if she knew Bella considered having to sit around doing nothing for hours at a time to be akin to actual torture. But she really ought to sleep tonight anyway, so.

Bella made a face at her, but nodded. (As well she should, spending a few hours idle when she _should_ be doing that _anyway_ was _hardly_ equivalent to the emotional turmoil she'd inflicted on Mira.) "So...you're not telling me not to go _now_ , are you? I mean, to deal with the runaway Slayer?"

Mira sighed. "No. But I'm not letting you out of my sight. I'm coming with you."

Bella nodded again. "Anyone else joining the expedition?" she asked the room at large, drawing Mira's attention back to the locals, and the way they were staring at the two of them.

"You two have the _strangest_ relationship," Dawn informed them.

Yes, Mira knew that. The power dynamics within their little triad were a delicate balancing act, as were their various neuroses and psychological _issues_. It probably wouldn't work at all if Bella were even the slightest bit selfish, or if Tom didn't find the two of them more entertaining to teach than to destroy, but even when Bella did do something like running off and forgetting Mira (which _did_ hurt, and probably always would) it wasn't because she was _choosing_ to indulge her own desires over Mira's sanity. (Mira didn't think she'd ever known Bella to prioritise her own indulgence over her duties to her House or to Mira and Tom — even this little adventure, she'd be willing to bet Andromeda had been informed that Bella wouldn't be around, and had been prepared to manage their family in her absence.) She just didn't always realise the impact her actions would have. Now that it had been explained to her, if Mira told her she couldn't go after the First Slayer tonight, she would stay. (She would be miserable and stroppy about it, but she would stay.)

And Tom had outright admitted that while he _would_ enjoy reducing Mira to a wretched pile of raw nerves and self-hatred, that would be a brief, fleeting pleasure. Guiding the development of her skills in manipulation and deception, on the other hand, teaching her to be more like himself, was more deeply satisfying, and allowed him to take some degree of credit for and pride in whatever she might eventually become. ( _Assuming you don't disappoint me... You_ won't _disappoint me, will you, Mirabella?_ )

She honestly suspected that he valued her as a student above Bella, in some ways. Bella was quicker than Mira, cleverer and far more intelligent when it came to academics, theory and so on, but she was...simple, living according to her nature without once questioning it, or feeling any sort of conflict between her own desires. (Most of the Blacks were like that, really, accepting that they simply were what they were with a refreshingly innocent, childlike ease, any nod toward placating the superego merely performed for others, not internalised.) Mira, on the other hand, had never had the luxury of childlike simplicity. The conflict between her own antisocial tendencies and the impression of maturity made on her at a young age, and the compulsions forced upon her in an effort to normalise her behaviour; between her need to be loved and her fear of rejection; between her need to be _perfect_ and her knowledge that it was all a façade — that was more relatable to Tom, though _his_ internal conflicts centered on his need for control, and the impossibility of meeting that need.

His proclivities for violence and torture were more of a compulsion than a skill. A side of himself he couldn't help but indulge, on occasion, since he was a child himself. And while he wasn't _ashamed_ of that side of himself, he didn't... He wasn't proud to have this drive to harm and desecrate those around himself. He did embrace it, but only, Mira suspected, because he couldn't reject it. She fancied, too, that he knew that, even though he would never admit it. Understanding and manipulating people, however — those were skills he had learned, skills he prided himself upon. Passing them on to her was a...cleaner, less conflicted act of teaching than mentoring Bella in her explorations of his art. He was proud of Bella too, of course, but his apprentice was more a dark and twisted work of 'art' herself than a student — an extension of Tom, his influence extending to every aspect of her life. It was a different sort of pride.

So Tom gave Mira approval, and she reflected the parts of himself he liked best. They gave Bella direction, and she gave them unswerving, inhuman devotion (albeit with the caveat that Eris and the Black children came first). Tom's understanding and Bella's constancy kept Mira from becoming a complete basket case, Mira and Bella looking to him for guidance stroked Tom's ego, he gave Bella a place to _belong_ despite having sacrificed her humanity, and Mira helped her make her way through the social minefield that was dealing with normal people. Mira's dependence on his learned, legilimency-based empathy and Bella's on his natural lack thereof helped Tom reconcile the opposing aspects of his personality. He brought an element of sensuality to their relationship which Mira needed and Bella lacked, and sadomasochistic violence which _Bella_ needed and _Mira_ lacked — the two of them obviously meeting those needs for him as well—

Basically, what she was saying was, strange as their relationship objectively was, it worked for them.

And of course, the sex was great. (One should never underestimate the value of great sex.)

"Yes, well, in case you haven't noticed, we're both kind of strange people. It'd be weirder if our relationship _weren't_ weird, don't you think?" Bella asked, giving Dawn a guileless grin. "What about you, Spike? You coming?"

"Best not," Mira advised them. "She's scared, and she's already engaged once with Liam — it seems likely that his presence would signal a degree of enmity it would likely be counter-productive to suggest." Regardless of whether they were planning on killing the feral Slayer-girl or if they came up with some other solution to the problem, it would almost certainly be easier to implement if she weren't already on guard against them.

"Are you sure _you_ want to come, Mira?" Buffy asked. "I mean, crazy First Slayer aside, there are still Bringers and demons and vamps out there wanting to kill us. It could be dangerous, and you're not exactly trained for this sort of thing."

Mira glared at her. "Yes, Buffy, I'm sure. What part of _not letting Bella out of my sight_ was unclear?"

"Great!" Bella chirped, before Buffy could offer some other perfectly reasonable objection. (Mira was well aware that she was more of a liability than an asset in a fight.) "Let's go. Every minute we waste is a minute her trail grows colder."

The Slayer-girl's trail growing cold might've been of greater concern if they hadn't discovered, only two blocks from the Summers residence, evidence that their quarry had had an unfortunate run-in with an automobile. In fact, the faint impressions of footsteps leading across the front lawn (the girl had broken the front window to escape, a loss which Xander had lamented at length, bemoaning the fact that he had prematurely congratulated them on _not_ breaking it in their altercation with the NHB earlier) and broken foliage where she'd crashed through a neighbor's garden were almost entirely irrelevant — the driver of the car was still on the scene, making a statement to the police, who had arrived only moments before the girls.

"It was— It just happened so _fast_ ," the young man said, clearly in shock. "She— It was a girl, I think, but wearing some sort of, like a mummy costume? Uh, black girl, wild dreads — her face was painted like a skull? She just– just ran out in front of me— I couldn't _stop_ , and— She had to've flown twenty, thirty feet when I hit her, but she just– just _got up_ , and ran off before I could even get out to see if she was okay..."

The officer taking his statement didn't entirely seem to believe him, insisting on conducting a field sobriety test and searching the boy's vehicle, presumably for intoxicants, but Buffy informed Mira and Bella that the scenario he described was entirely possible, and there _was_ a small pool of blood on the street. It was significantly closer to his front bumper than his story suggested, presumably because it had taken him some distance to come to a complete stop, rather than because the Slayer couldn't be thrown more than seven metres by a ton of steel moving at thirty miles per hour with no more than superficial injuries. More drips on the pavement, one of them capturing an imprint of bare toes, corroborated at the very least that there had been a girl, and she had run off in the direction he had indicated.

Toward a public park, according to Buffy, which Bella said made sense. If _she_ were suddenly dropped injured into a foreign world, it might be _Mira's_ first instinct to find people, find someone to _help_ her, but Bella would look for a quiet place away from anyone else to give her a chance to get her bearings and lick her wounds. That direction was obviously quieter and less well-lit than any other in their immediate vicinity.

Of course, the fact that if it were Bella who was lost and in distress, the _last_ thing she would want would be someone running her to ground, did nothing to deter her from darting off in the same direction, leaving Mira and Buffy to follow at a more reasonable pace.

Buffy was brooding.

"Okay, out with it."

"Huh?"

"What's wrong?"

"What _isn't_ wrong?" The Slayer sighed. "I– I think I might've made a mistake. The men, in that vision, dream thingy, they offered me power, but the cost..."

"You turned it down?"

"They wanted to– to put this demon thing in me, a demon spirit, make me less human. _Use_ me, like they used _her_ , but..."

"But?"

Buffy groaned. "I don't know, I thought I knew what was going on, but then they turned it around on me, said the First Slayer _chose_ to do it, to _become one with the demon_ , and Bella doesn't think I'm human anyway, and what if that's the difference between holding back the First and falling to its army? Whatever _power_ or magic or whatever I turned down? I mean, maybe I shouldn't have— It doesn't look like it made much of a difference to _her_. I mean, it didn't turn her into some wild girl like the First Slayer, so... I think maybe I should've done it."

Mira sighed. "Don't second-guess yourself, Buffy. And don't try to compare yourself to Bellatrix — it's entirely possible that assimilating that spirit had so little effect on her because she hasn't _been_ human for the better part of her life."

"Uh, I don't think you get it. I mean, you saw the First Slayer, right? Bella might be crazy, but..."

Okay, that was fucking hilarious. "Do you not remember what Bella looked like when we escaped from that last hell dimension? She cleans up well enough, but any semblance of humanity in her is the product of sixteen years of brainwashing and social training. She much prefers to revert to instinct — running about getting into fights like a feral child, putting her life in danger because it's _fun_ — rather than acting the lady she's been raised."

 _"Lady?_ Like, _lady_ lady?" Buffy's surprise was almost palpable. Mira smirked at her as they passed under a streetlamp.

"Oh, yes, Bella's nobility. Almost a princess, actually. Not _literally_ , but her family holds more power and influence than any other in our society, and they began grooming her as their heir as soon as she could talk. She sacrificed her humanity on her seventh birthday, in exchange for the power to resist her father's efforts to break her, bring her to heel. Tom's spent nearly ten years trying to teach her how to at least _pass_ for human, and she's still not very good at it. I can almost guarantee that consciously embracing the spirit of death and destruction that is your heritage would have a _much_ greater effect on you. And living in constant conflict with your own instincts is hardly a position to be envied." Granted, it didn't really _bother_ Bella, not belonging anywhere other than in the little world they shared with Tom, Angel, and Adara, but her life was still far more difficult than it might otherwise be. "I don't imagine the First Slayer spent much time with her former friends and family after undergoing her transformation."

Buffy sighed. "Probably not. She's got this whole _I am death, I work alone_ thing going on."

"You know her?" Mira asked, surprised. She'd gotten the impression the others knew _of_ the First Slayer, but they didn't actually _know_ her. "Is there any realistic alternative to executing her?"

"Eeh... _know_ is a strong word. We've met, in dreams. I kind of pissed her off, having friends and working with them to stop this big bad a couple years ago, it was a thing. And...I don't know. I don't even know if killing her is a realistic option. I mean, Slayers are kinda hard to kill, and she's the first, the strongest..."

"Do you _want_ to kill her?" Mira had to ask, because she was sensing a certain degree of reluctance, there — even if she didn't want to _embrace_ her heritage as the Slayer, she clearly didn't _entirely_ want to reject it.

"Well, _no_ , but...what other option do we have?"

"We could try talking to her," Mira suggested.

"No go — she doesn't have a language, or a name even. The one time we 'spoke' it was in a dream, through a kinda ghosty thing. And even if she _did_ talk, I don't exactly speak, like, prehistoric Swahili, or whatever."

" _Shh_ ," Bella said, appearing out of nowhere suddenly enough to make both Buffy and Mira jump. "I think I've found her." She motioned for them to follow, leading them around a small copse of trees to observe a children's play structure. "Inside, there's a little cave-like room under that bridge, there. So, what are we doing?"

"Plan A is to convince her to come quietly," Mira informed her. "We'll bring her back to the house and keep her there until the spell unravels, or Willow comes up with a way to disrupt it."

"And Plan B? The existence of a Plan A implies a Plan B." Bella gave her a guileless grin, fully aware that _Plan B_ would be to kill the simulacrum.

"We can't just let her keep running around," Buffy admitted. "She could seriously hurt someone!"

"So Plan B is to stop her by any means necessary?"

"Yes, but Plan _A_ is to find some way to tame her," Mira said firmly.

Bella sniggered at her, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. "Do I take that to mean _you're_ going to attempt to tame her?"

"Hey, I managed to befriend _you_ , didn't I?"

"Well, _yeah_ , but it took you about eighteen months, and I might be a fucking savage, but I'm pretty sure I spend more time around humans than Slayer-girl does." Mira glared at her, causing her to add, "You're _very_ human, Zee. In case you haven't noticed."

"Oh, shut up. Buffy should do it, anyway — they've met before, and there's a chance the First Slayer will recognise her as something other than a threat. I was there when Liam and Robert attacked her, so."

"...Right. This should be good," Bella said, giggling at the Slayer's surprise and obvious uncertainty. "Go on, Buffy, what are you waiting for?"

"You, to not look like I'm about to get my butt kicked?" Buffy muttered, but she did creep forward a bit, looking back only to glare when she realised Bella was twiddling her fingers in farewell, a mocking grin firmly in place. "Hey, er...Slayer-girl? First Slayer? It's Buffy," she called, carefully approaching the entrance to the child-sized playhouse room. "Remember me? You tried to stab me in a dream?"

She didn't get her _butt_ kicked, though she did get her _face_ kicked, the cornered Slayer-girl shrieking at her as she came too close before striking out to deter her. Crouching as she had to to enter the spot where the First Slayer was holed up, she was caught off-balance, falling back. She raised her arms to protect her neck, as though expecting the other girl to come lunging out or leap on top of her and throttle her, but when she didn't Buffy pulled herself back into her crouch, peering into the shadows.

"I think she's hurt, guys. Like, maybe a broken arm."

She began creeping closer again, only to be repelled by a rock thrown quickly and with enough force to leave a significant gash above her left eye.

" _Ouch!_ You little—! I'm trying to _help_ you, here!"

The Slayer did, to her credit, manage to duck the second rock.

"Alright, I tried," she declared, easing back, but still keeping her eye on the entrance to the feral girl's shelter. "I vote it's someone else's turn, now. Mira? You're less threatening than I am."

Bella snorted. "You're kidding, right?"

They both turned to look at her.

"Um, no, I think it's pretty clear if she does recognise me, she doesn't want anything to do with me, so, yeah, someone else's turn."

"No, I mean, Zee's _very_ threatening. You might look _weird_ to Slayer-girl, but you don't act suspiciously. Zee's all smooth and soft and so _obviously_ harmless she clearly can't be trusted."

Mira blinked at the smaller girl. That...might actually explain a _lot_ of Bella's hesitancy to accept her, back in their first year of school. They'd been on speaking terms, of course, but she'd been able to tell Bella was holding back, keeping her at arm's length. It had been positively _maddening_ , truth be told. "So, is that you volunteering?" she asked.

She certainly hadn't expected the answer to be a surprised shrug. "Sure?" She plucked a knife from the air — the bone one she'd made in the last hell dimension — handing it to Buffy— "Hold this." —and stripped off the oversized tee-shirt she'd been wearing for the past two days, leaving herself in a pair of skimpy pink shorts and nothing else.

"Bella... What are you doing?"

"Being obviously unarmed. Knife?" Buffy gave it back, immediately undermining the whole _unarmed_ thing, if that was what she was really going for, and not just taking any excuse to not have to wear clothes. "Also, that thing's all _big_ and _flappy_. Makes it look like I'm making sudden movements when I'm not."

Okay, fair point, maybe. She approached the girl's hiding spot slowly, Mira and Buffy trailing after her to get a better view of whatever she was planning to do.

" _Are you sure she knows what she's doing?_ " Buffy hissed, the answer to which was _no_.

Mira didn't give it to her, instead straining to make out the melody Bella was humming under her breath, the Slayer-girl's white-painted face turning to follow her as she came to kneel almost-but-not-quite within striking distance. She didn't _think_ it was a spell, Bella didn't much like performative magic. It might've been a goblin lullaby or something, there was something soothing about the repetitive shushing and clicking sounds. She would say elvish, the Black elves were the only beings she could imagine ever having sung lullabies for Bella, but their language didn't have those clicky sounds...

The Slayer-girl pulled back, guarded, holding her right arm close to her chest, a rock in her left hand, eyes following the knife.

Which Bella turned on her own arm, deliberately slowly, a dark trickle of blood welling up where ivory bone met white skin. She flipped the blade in her hand, offering it to the Slayer — which seemed like a _terrible_ idea to Mira, but what did she know? Maybe in whatever twisted logic Bella was following, it actually _made sense_ to make the scared, violent, feral child — she didn't look any older than Bella did, which meant she was probably actually several years younger — even _more_ dangerous. (If Bella got herself killed, Mira was going to make Willow bring _her_ back from the dead so Mira could kill her _again_!)

The girl dropped the rock, snatching the knife before it hit the ground — quickly enough to make a deep slice at the base of Bella's thumb. She sniffed at the blood on the blade, tongue darting out to taste it, as though something about it would inform her, somehow, whether Bella was human, or some more foreign threat. Coming from prehistoric Africa, as Dawn had indicated, she'd probably never seen anyone even vaguely similar to Bella, dark eyes and hair contrasting dramatically with her death-pale face. She probably looked as terrifyingly inhuman to the Slayer girl as the NHB that had appeared in the wake of Buffy's departure had looked to Mira.

" _What's she doing?_ "

" _How should I know?_ "

" _She is_ your _girlfriend, isn't she?_ "

" _That_ hardly _makes her actions any easier to interpret, Buffy._ "

Honestly, Mira was having more than enough trouble trying to interpret the Slayer-girl's responses. She actually seemed to be a little less on edge now, her body-language more relaxed, though still tense enough Mira didn't doubt she would stab Bella the second she made a wrong move.

The painted mask crumpled, just a bit, into a confused frown, her lips moving to form what was probably only a single word.

Bella's head tilted to one side, her humming coming to a halt as she made some response, equally inaudible from here.

" _What did she just say? What language are they speaking? How—_ "

" _Oh, for the love of the Dark, Summers, shut up, I don't_ know _!_ "

Whatever it was, it was enough to save her getting her own knife in her heart when she allowed soulfire to erupt in her injured hand, blue-violet flames a little bluer and darker than usual, before pulling the energy back into herself, forcing the cut to heal nearly as effectively as a healing charm. (Though at _thousands_ of times the cost — it made Mira cringe just to _watch_ Bella play with that sort of magic, even if it _had_ saved her life hundreds of times while they'd been trapped in her _lovely holiday spot._ ) She didn't actually need to force the flames to manifest first, but she was presumably trying to make a point of some sort. She licked the blood away to show the Slayer-girl what she'd done, before demonstrating again with the cut on her arm, and gesturing toward the prehistoric Slayer's own broken limb.

This time it was Mira who couldn't help making a comment on the scene playing out before them. " _Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me..._ "

The Slayer extended her injured arm cautiously, knife poised to skewer Bella if she tried anything _other_ than healing it, hissing in pain as Bella ran her fingers down the length of the bone, straightening it before forcing blue fire to dance between them, sinking into the other girl — the magical construct, Mira reminded herself — without hesitation. _Far_ more energy than Mira really thought she ought to waste, though— _Oh!_ That was actually very clever...

" _What was_ that _?_ " Buffy demanded, as the escaped Slayer's eyes glowed briefly with Bella's power.

" _That_ would be Bella making an impression on our guest," Mira explained, dropping the whispering as Bella gestured for the newly-healed wild girl to follow her back toward the others. If she was right, the bloody madwoman had just used direct soul manipulation to mimic enthrallment, forging a connection between them. "It's...a method of sharing memories, thoughts...showing someone who you really are. A very _dangerous_ method."

"I'll say. Primeval First Slayer seeing what Bella really is, I'd expect more stabbing, less following around like an obedient puppy."

"Really? _You_ haven't tried to stab her," Mira pointed out.

Buffy, dumbfounded, entirely failed to respond before Bella and her painted shadow reached them, the latter once again tense and edgy, carefully keeping Bella between them, but Bella herself grinning like an idiot. "Zee! I think I found my Enkidu!"

"Does this mean you're planning on engaging her in a terrifying epic battle of some sort?" All Mira recalled about the Epic of Gilgamesh at the moment was that the friendship between Gilgamesh and Enkidu was based on the two of them fighting when they first met, and discovering that they were equally matched...she thought.

"Mmm, no. Well, maybe, if we get to a point with the whole _communicating_ thing that I can explain we're not _actually_ supposed to kill each other before she goes _poof_." Mira was pretty sure they _were_ supposed to — that was the whole point of the Slayer challenge thing, wasn't it? "But, no, it means she's my light opposite. An equal, and like...a mirror-twin, kind of. Like you and I are soulmates, completely different and complementary, she's my soul-sister, too similar to be anything but mortal enemies or the best of friends."

"Uh- _huh_ ," Buffy said, giving voice to Mira's own skepticism. This sounded suspiciously like one of those things Bella made up then claimed were totally reasonable in the House of Black, like having nemeses, or a longstanding tradition of patricide.

Bella nodded very seriously. "Yep, except she's younger than me, and just barely started being what she is, so maybe a _little_ soul-sister, like I'm Angel's baby sister." Why did Mira have a bad feeling about the direction this was heading? "Which means I have to look out for her."

Mira groaned. _Really, Bella?_

"So, we can go home, and she's not going to hurt anyone?" Buffy asked, sounding absolutely _exhausted_.

"Probably not, unless they try to hurt her first. Or she thinks they are. It should be fine, she's just scared and confused and—"

And Mira just managed to place exactly what this situation was reminding her of. "And this is going to be like that time you decided to adopt a poor, orphaned nundu cub and raise it in the Chamber of Secrets, isn't it?" One of those instances where Mira and even Tom were briefly eclipsed by some other new and fascinating thing which Bella would obsess over until she came 'down' from her current bout of madness and abruptly lost interest.

 _Goddamnit._ This really couldn't have happened at a worse time. _We're in the middle of something, Bella!_

(And she'd actually gotten Bella to agree to spend the night with her for once! Plans which had _not_ included Bella's recently-discovered "Enkidu"!)

"Well, _no_ , I took in the nundu because we killed its mother, and they're rare and fascinating, and I _did_ let it go when it got too big for me to handle and could take care of itself in the wild, and you only got bitten once, and it didn't even really hurt you, you just didn't like it because babies freak you out." That was _not_ why she hadn't liked the _giant fucking plague leopard kitten_ (even if Bella had let it go before it got much bigger than an adult lion). "Also, maybe, kind of, in some ways? But I don't think she'll stick around more than a few days before the construct unravels, so, mostly no."

Right, a few days. _You can handle Bella being fascinated with someone else for_ a few days _, Mira. Suck it up._ She sighed. "Fine." Not that _her_ opinion on the matter held _any_ significance whatsoever.

"Anyway, I was _going_ to say, she's still in the process of assimilating the wraith and establishing dominance over it, I think, but she's far enough along to recognise some degree of kinship between the two of us, and I think far enough along to resist killing anyone who crosses her path, just because they're there. I mean, she hasn't tried to attack Zee yet, and _everyone_ tries to attack Zee. So, say hi to Kiki—"

She paused expectantly, long enough for Mira to give the girl an entirely resigned, "Hello, Enkidu."

"—and let's go, I want to get her cleaned up, and then I think it's Buffy's turn to stay up keeping watch, right? Because I really _should_ get some sleep, and I think Kiki's pretty tired, too — metamorphosis is pretty exhausting, generally speaking..."

She headed off back in the direction they'd come, still chattering away, the young Slayer following her like a death-painted shadow, still clutching her knife and jumping at the sudden sounds of a city at night — a car horn, a cat yowling out in the dark — throwing the occasional suspicious glance back at Buffy and Mira, as though they might try to attack her from behind.

Buffy seemed to be a bit stunned, watching the two of them walk away. "I have no words. None."

That was actually very funny, or else Mira was slightly hysterical at the moment. When she finally managed to stop laughing (not before Buffy started looking at her with some degree of concern, so probably hysteria), she said, as drily as she was able, "Welcome to my life. Come on, unless you want _Bella_ to be the one to introduce everyone to her newly adopted baby sister." That would surely go well. Just _swimmingly_. Especially when Kennedy acted her usual charming self toward the newcomer... _Fuck_ , this was going to be a disaster...

" _God_ , no, let's go."


	20. The White Room

If Tom Riddle had known about the interdimensional law firm of Wolfram and Hart when he was a younger man, it was entirely possible, he reflected, scribbling his name at the bottom of the contract he'd just finished negotiating, that his life would have turned out _very_ differently.

After all, the demonic lawyers were _hardly_ likely to care about the negative recommendations of the likes of Albus Dumbledore. Forget Borgin and Burke's — he probably could have taken an internship here straight out of school, and they would have kept him _far_ too busy to go wandering around pursuing the Dark Arts and immortality. He likely never would have gotten around to applying to teach at Hogwarts again. He'd be far more successful in terms of monetary wealth and tangible influence, but he rather thought, skimming the outskirts of the mind of the stressed, overworked junior associate who had been assigned to his "case", that travelling around Europe and Asia as he'd ended up doing had been more fun.

And in any case, the Firm had not expanded to his home dimension until Nineteen Fifty-Four, and it had taken several years for him to hear about it — he'd already taken on Bellatrix as an apprentice — so he would never know where that path might have led.

"Right this way, then, Mister Riddle." There was no smugness in her tone, Tom would give her that, but there was a distinct hint of schadenfreude in her thoughts. _He's buggered, and the poor bastard doesn't even know it._

Also relief that _she_ wasn't the one who had to escort him up to the White Room. She was instead escorting him to one of the more senior "junior" partners' offices — the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart, a trio of powerful, ancient metaphysical beings, were considered the _Senior_ Partners, but that didn't mean there weren't some mortal partners who had been around much longer than others, and held _much_ higher security clearances. There were all sorts of rumours of the horrible things that happened when one entered the White Room, largely because very few Wolfram and Hart employees had ever been Called Up for any reason aside from abject failure. It might just be Tom, but a closed-door meeting with the named partners seemed like it would be potentially harrowing regardless of where it took place.

The White Room itself was, according to Angel, a sort of portal between dimensions, a liminal place which existed everywhere (or at least a great many places) and nowhere at all. It was inhabited not by the Senior Partners themselves, but by a gatekeeper called the Conduit (Mesektet to her friends). Tom hadn't been there before, but he _had_ met Mesektet — escorting Angel to various functions did introduce him to the most _interesting_ people. Only in passing of course, but she'd seemed perfectly...well, not _normal_ , but certainly not existentially terrifying. Far less so than many of Angel's friends. Her mythological roots lay in transporting the Sun through the darkness of night, rather than in any sort of punishment or actively malevolent role. She was certainly _dark_ , with a somewhat cruel sense of humour, but she'd been pleasant enough in their brief exchange.

The real reason the junior associate believed him to be entirely buggered, however, was that in exchange for transportation to and from the plane of the Home Office (Bella had, at least, managed to get Mira and herself lost in a dimension which was _relatively_ easy to reach), Tom had agreed to _resolve_ a certain problem involving an Aspect of Order, one of the Ancient Powers of that plane, which at some point had decided that the only way to achieve peace on Earth was to incorporate all intelligent life into a single consciousness. Which would of course make everything very, _very_ boring. Both the light _and_ dark Aspects of every universe it was in contact with despised it. Enthrallment and subsumption were its primary functions, which had led to it being dubbed the Beloved Devourer in certain circles and the Hive Queen in others, though it _did_ have the perspective to plan and manipulate circumstances to favour it over the course of centuries.

When she'd seen the opening offer that whichever higher-up he'd been negotiating with through her had sent back, the lawyer had actually almost warned him that they were asking the impossible. Thwart a prophecy, stop a purely magical being which could almost certainly engulf and assimilate his consciousness without (metaphorically) blinking from taking over the world, _avert an apocalypse_ — in exchange for _transportation?_ Madness!

Of course he'd agreed to do it. With beings like the Partners, it was entirely possible that refusing their request would incline them to find some way to fuck him over on an unforeseen technicality, even if they did eventually negotiate some lesser price. Instead, he'd elected to raise his _own_ request to something he felt would more reasonably compensate him for his trouble. He'd eventually wrangled two favours yet to be named in addition to the necessary transportation for himself and the girls, to the universes and times specified (with a margin of error on the latter, of course — he wasn't an _unreasonable_ man, but he had no intention of waiting around for years for the girls to show up or return home only to find that they'd been gone decades), safe passage guaranteed within the properties of the Firm.

He probably could have pressed for more, but Fate _would_ eventually intervene to topple the Devourer in some way. Tom's intervention would only save time and lives, and the resources and foothold the Firm held on that particular plane. Normally they wouldn't even bother, just let this thing run its course, but this was the _Home Office_. It held...sentimental value. And he had to admit it _was_ convenient — the Wolfram and Hart building closest to the town in which Bella had turned up was in the same city which was the epicentre of the Devourer's activity at the moment. He'd hardly even have to go out of his way.

It likely wouldn't be all that difficult to _find_ the presence in question — it wasn't exactly known for its subtlety — and to be perfectly frank, Tom Riddle had never met an Aspect he couldn't find _some_ common ground with. In this case, he'd be lying if he said he'd never considered enthralling every other mind at Hogwarts, just to make his own life easier for a few days. (Midsummer tended to give him a headache even _without_ all of the students celebrating the end of exams and the imminent holidays.) He'd _also_ be lying if he said he hadn't been sculpting the thought patterns of his students over the past five years to bring their priorities and values more into line with his own. Those children would, after all, become the ruling class of Britain in their turn. Reforming the country in the image of the Dark by such a method might be the work of generations, but he _was_ planning on living forever, and everyone needed a hobby.

Honestly, he expected he'd get on with the Devourer fairly well. It shouldn't be _overly_ difficult to convince it to abandon a plan it _had_ to know the rest of the Powers vehemently opposed and would eventually thwart by some other means. He'd simply have to suggest a reasonable alternative.

 _You underestimate me, Ms Whitlow_ , he whispered into her mind as she tapped politely on the door of the "junior" partner's office. _I can be_ very _persuasive_. She startled at the foreign thought, enough that she hesitated, rather than enter immediately when they were bid to do so.

"Come in, I said!" the voice on the other side repeated, even as heavy footfalls approached, wrenching the handle out of her hand as the door was yanked open by a rather anxious, slightly florid, middle-aged man. "Ah! Jane."

"Mister Swift. This is the...client, Mister Riddle."

"Please, Ms Whitlow, _independent contractor_." He thought that description fit the arrangement they'd negotiated a bit better. He was rendering a service for them as well, after all. The partner, one Charles Swift from the name-plate on his door, snorted. "Tom Riddle. How do you do."

"Yes, yes, how do you do. Charlie Swift. You're the one headed upstairs, are you?" he asked brusquely. His occlumency was very good — he would certainly notice if Tom were to try to sneak into his mind — but he had the impression from the younger lawyer that his obvious anxiety was rather unusual.

"Indeed."

"Right, then, let's go. Get this the bloody hell over with. Jane, I believe Carson was looking for you."

After a brief, unnerved farewell (the uncharacteristic behaviour of the "junior" partner even more off-putting than Tom's touch of legilimency a moment before), Ms Whitlow departed, leaving Swift to lead him toward the main elevator bank. Pressing a certain combination of floor-buttons — blocked by Swift's body, Tom couldn't make out the pass-code — revealed an unmarked white button which, when activated, sent them shooting upward.

"What is it they want with you up there, anyway?"

"Oh, I was under the impression that I had been negotiating with you."

"Ah, no. The memo about you came straight from the top."

Tom shrugged. Hardly mattered, he decided, whether Swift knew what he was up to or not. "I'm just passing through. I'm heading to the Home Office by way of Los Angeles for personal reasons. I understand there's been a spot of trouble there lately. I've been contracted to address it while I'm in the area."

"Er...right. Forget I asked," the lawyer muttered, as the elevator came to a stop with a ding. The door slid open to reveal a featureless, apparently infinite white landscape, radiant in the bright light which emanated evenly from some indefinite source overhead. "Ah...you know where you're going from here?"

Tom narrowly resisted rolling his eyes. "Yes, I expect so." This sort of place, you didn't find what you were looking for, it found _you_. Since he _had_ arranged this visit ahead of time, it wasn't really a surprise that as soon as the elevator door closed behind him (and he turned to find that it had disappeared), Mesektet appeared more or less exactly in front of him.

It _was_ a surprise that she was apparently entertaining. Rather than _one_ little girl, there were three, and one notably more mature woman (ageless, as gods tended to be, but certainly an adult). The Lady — Tyche, Lady Luck, was _never_ invoked by name, not by mortals who wished to avoid drawing unwanted attention — and Hecate, in the guise of a ten-year-old, for some reason, but those eyes and that grin were unmistakable, were perhaps not _entirely_ unexpected guests to find in Mesektet's...office, but the third little girl was, unless Tom was _very_ mistaken, human.

Mortal.

Five or six years old, red hair tied back with a ribbon which had come undone, she was dressed in a rumpled blue and green sundress — looked for all the world like she'd just stepped off a muggle street somewhere. Her eyes were almost as green as the Lady's and there was a tiny black kitten curled up in her lap. The most unusual thing about her might have been the fact that her thoughts and feelings were kept to herself, but that was a welcome oddity. The average six-year-old child, based on his memories of his own childhood and experience with Bella's myriad cousins and siblings, was insufferably annoying. (Bella herself had been quite a lot _more_ annoying than average when she'd been that young. It was generally considered 'Unforgivable' to use potentially personality-altering compulsions on children so young, but he still thought he'd been _completely_ justified in compelling her to respect him enough to behave herself in his presence.)

The four of them appeared to be having tea. Another seat appeared at the little round table as he approached.

"Tom Riddle!" their hostess greeted him pleasantly, pouring a cup for him. "Please, sit."

"Miss Mesektet." She giggled at being called _Miss_. "Apologies if I'm interrupting...?"

Hecate clicked her tongue at him in mock disapproval. "You know your company is always welcome, silly boy."

"And we've been waiting for you," the Lady added.

"You're familiar with Hecate and Tyche, of course," Mesektet noted. "But I don't think you've met Lily?" The little girl shook her head. "Yes, well, Tom, this is Lily Evans, she's just precious. Lily, this is Tom Riddle, your biological father."

The girl gave him a shy little wave.

Tom fell into his chair, between Mesektet and Hecate. "Her _what?!_ "

The goddesses laughed at him.

"You heard her."

"I did, my Lady, but I think I must have _mis_ -heard. I don't have a daughter."

"Bella will be so disappointed to hear that," Hecate noted, still giggling.

Yes, well, Tom was rather put out with her at the moment, so he couldn't much say he cared whether she would be disappointed or not. This entire mess could have been avoided if she'd just _told the Zabinis_ that she was taking Mirabella on holiday. Granted, they might not have been pleased, but they wouldn't think that their daughter had been _murdered_.

"Katie," the child half-whispered to the goddess beside her — the only person at the table she was familiar with, it seemed — tugging at the edge of her chiton. "Who's Bella? Do I have another sister?"

 _Katie?_ She was calling Hecate _Katie_?

 _Katie_ nodded. "She's adopted."

"No, she's my apprentice. Our relationship is much less incestuous when you put it that way," Tom corrected her. "And if anything, she adopted me." Then he smirked, unable to help himself. "Can I call you Katie, Melinoë, my love?"

Hecate smirked back at the use of that particular epithet — evoking her role as a bringer of madness and nightmares, queen of the restless dead. It was the name she had introduced herself with the first time he'd attracted her attention. "Are you six years old and completely adorable?"

"Well, completely adorable, certainly."

"Charming as you may be, Tom," the Lady informed him, "you will never be _six-year-old necromancer_ adorable. You've missed your window of opportunity, I'm afraid. But next time you see Kore, you should definitely call her _Seffie_."

Tom snorted. "I like being alive, thanks ever so. Would any of you like to explain how it is that I suddenly have a daughter?" He'd sacrificed his ability to sire children...nearly seven years ago, which did admittedly line up with the girl's age, but he was _fairly certain_ he'd killed all the women he'd had sex with around that period. Unless...

_Damn it, Bellatrix!_

There was only _one_ woman who could _possibly_ have borne this child, one he hadn't seen dead. He'd been a bit preoccupied in the wake of a _very_ painful ritual. Bella was supposed to have properly disposed of the sacrifice. Obviously, she hadn't.

"Strike that — would any of you like to explain why the daughter I didn't know I had is meeting me in an extra-dimensional law office, when I'm in the middle of avoiding being framed for murder? Because you obviously could have informed me of her existence at any other point in time, such as when I _don't_ have to go track down the Beloved Devourer and talk it out of enthralling an entire world. This is _not_ a good time, _Katie_."

"P'tunia was being a meanie," Lily mumbled, somewhat to Tom's surprise.

 _I cannot hear you when you mumble_ , he thought at her, almost reflexively, maintaining enough contact to catch any pertinent details of this explanation which the six-year-old didn't think to include aloud.

She blinked at him, startled. "Petunia" (her adoptive older sister, a muggle, apparently) "was being mean about Nyx" (the cat) "and calling me a freak for being magic and Mister Arthur—" (Arthur Young, a Slytherin who had graduated in Tom's second year of teaching; one of the first he'd advised on his choice of career, pointing him toward becoming an obliviator for Accidents and Catastrophes rather than following his father into politics as Horace had suggested. Clearly he had elected not to obliviate the girl following whatever episode of accidental magic they'd responded to.) "—said magic is real and I'm not mad and I can't tell anyone, but I told Petunia and she said I was a liar, and I was crazy and adopted and I wasn't her sister and I asked Mum if it's true and she said yes, and lots of other things and crying, but that's not part of the story.

"So I asked Katie if I was adopted, who were my real parents, and she said my real mummy's with Seffie — that means she's dead — but I could meet my real daddy, which is you. And because I know about magic, and I never want to see Tuney ever again, and it's my birthday, Katie said I can stay with you in Magicland. And Seffie let me borrow a flying horse to come here—" (A thestral. She looked around, as though to point the bloody thing out, but given the nature of this place, it was nowhere in sight.) "I think it's invisible sometimes?" She gave a helpless little shrug. "This is Nyx," she added, scooping the sleeping kitten off her lap and offering it to Tom, who, for lack of any other response, took it. It appeared to be undead, which was...not as surprising as it probably should have been — the Lady _had_ called the girl a necromancer only moments ago, and anyone who could get away with calling Persephone "Seffie" clearly had her favour. "Seffie said I could keep her, but I had to learn how to take care of her. She's not dead anymore, but I haven't figured out how to wake her up, yet."

Tom elected to focus on the cat rather than any other aspect of this situation, because it was by far the easiest to address. "Ask her to wake up." _Not with words, think it to her, like this_. "And give her a little more magic. You're barely giving her enough to sustain herself at the moment, she doesn't have enough energy to move." Not terribly surprising, the girl — Lily, was it? — was only six — _barely_ six, apparently — and not exceptionally powerful. Bella at six — or her cousin Sirius, who was about that age now — would probably have had the excess energy to animate the kitten without conscious effort, but it would likely be a few more years before Lily's abilities developed enough to consistently channel that much magic.

"But, _how_?"

_Let a little more of your soul move into the secondary vessel, obviously._

Confusion.

Right. Six-year-old. No formal training. Tom sighed. "There's a connection between you, you should be able to feel her. It might help if you close your eyes." She did. "Push magic to her through that connection, as if you were lighting a candle." He didn't know until his words sparked a memory that she actually _had_ tried freeform fire charms, but it had been a safe bet she had — fire and levitation were the most common manifestations of accidental magic, and children with any awareness of and control over their magic normally started experimenting with freeform effects duplicating their earlier, accidental episodes. "Not that much, you don't want to set her on fire, just until she feels _alive_. And then hold it there as you would when making something levitate. Float," he corrected himself, given the recurrence of confusion at the word.

After a moment of frowning on the part of the girl, the kitten yawned and stretched, its eyes blinking open...just long enough to surprise Lily — apparently she hadn't realised she would be able to see through the kitten's eyes. She lost focus as soon as she did.

"That was— I don't think I did that right."

"No, you did. Congratulations, you managed to briefly possess an undead cat. You just need to separate your consciousness from the magic supporting her if you don't want to perceive through her senses, too." He tipped the unconscious animal back onto her lap. "Practise." That should keep her occupied for at least a few hours, he thought, turning to the three supernatural entities observing them with various degrees of amusement. "Did it not occur to you to ask me before volunteering me as this child's caretaker?" he asked Hecate, with a pointed glare. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly _good parent_ material."

"That seemed pretty fatherly to me," Mesektet said absently, apparently fascinated by watching the child attempt to awaken her cat again.

"I'm a _teacher_ , Mesektet. Teaching her how to sustain an animated cat is one thing, but I'm fairly certain there's more to parenting than that. In case you've forgotten, I was accompanying Angel Black the first time we met."

"Mmm, yes." The Egyptian spirit grinned at him, looking for all the world like a perfectly innocent second-year student. "How is that little brat, by the way?"

Tom glowered at the change of subject. "She's well. Torturing ghosts. Driving Sally mad. The usual. Still grounded. She asked me to remind you that if you get bored here, you can always come visit our plane. The American muggles have started a war in Southeast Asia, apparently it's very entertaining."

Mesektet nodded. "Tell her I'll write her."

"Of course. But can we please focus on the issue at hand, here? Quite aside from the business I have to take care of at the Home Office — I've no idea how long that will take, or where I'll be for the duration — I am simply not equipped to be a parent, Hecate. You know this. You know _me_. You know my hobbies. And legilimency may be cheating, but I cannot pretend to care in the way a child requires from a parent. Not for years on end."

Not to mention, he didn't _want_ a child. Between his relationships with Angel and the girls and their associated "hobbies", minding and advising the students of Slytherin House, teaching and research, and his ongoing feud with his (nominal) boss, he had quite enough on his plate. The added responsibility of a child to care for was not welcome. Especially not one this small, who actually _would_ require minding, and couldn't simply be left to her own devices when she grew too tedious.

"Frankly, Tom, I don't care. You still owe me for saving your sanity after that last augmentation ritual—" He did, damn it. "—and regardless of your hobbies and various interpersonal and emotional shortcomings, I am quite certain you are capable of raising a child if you put your mind to it. She doesn't need you to _love_ her, she needs someone who understands her and accepts her. A _human_ who understands her, and can serve as an example of normal human behaviour. She spends all her time playing with magic and talking to Persephone and myself. I'm concerned that she's going to turn out rather...odd, if something isn't done."

"And you _don't_ think she'll turn out odd if you give her to me?" That was perhaps the funniest thing Hecate had ever implied. That Tom Riddle was a bit odd was almost as widely-known a fact as that Bellatrix was insane, or that the earth was bloody _round_.

"I think that if I give her to you, you'll teach her how to at least pass for eccentric. She has no friends. She did idolise Petunia, but Petunia has just entirely rejected her, making it clear in the process that Lily scares her. The adult Evanses are far less aware of magic and her potential, but even they find her entirely baffling and vaguely disturbing."

Understandably so, probably. She was obviously listening — her own eyes were closed, but the kitten's were fixed firmly on their conversation — but didn't seem to find "Katie's" frankness the least bit upsetting, which Tom suspected most children would. She likely didn't respond as expected to other emotional stimuli, either. Whether that was an inherited biological quirk or an artefact of being more concerned with the metaphysical sphere than the human one, he honestly couldn't say.

"The one child who would have become her only friend in most timelines — and the primary check on her behaviour — has been diverted in yours for various reasons." She shot a glare at the Lady, who raised an eyebrow at her, giving her an enigmatic smile. "She's _alone_ , Tom, and reaching an age where caring more for her imaginary friends than the world around herself becomes more disturbing than adorable. The muggle world will reject her even more strongly as she grows older. If she doesn't decide to cross the veil to be closer to Persephone, there's a significant chance she'll be institutionalised before she's of an age to go to Hogwarts."

And none of that was Tom's problem. "How sad. My heart breaks for her. You know me better than that, Melinoë. There is no place in my life for a small child."

Hecate's eyes narrowed into a glare which would have been much more intimidating if she weren't impersonating a child herself. "I _do_ know you. She's _yours_ , and you know about her now — if you turn your back on her, you'll be just as despicable as your own sire, and you know it. Figure it out."

Tom ground his teeth together, refraining from saying something _very_ unfortunate. That was a low blow...and actually a _very_ good point. He might be a deceptive, domineering, manipulative arse; he might be a serial killer with a penchant for possession, rape, and torture; he might have engaged in cannibalistic soul-magic rituals on more than one occasion and be fucking two of his own (technically underage) students, but he _did_ try to avoid being a hypocrite. (He had to have _some_ standards, after all.) "Don't you think you'll miss your adoptive parents, Lily? You don't know me at all — I might be a cruel, heartless man you don't want to have anything to do with."

The girl frowned at him. "I know you're not nice. But Katie wouldn't let me go with you if you were going to be mean _to me_. And Mummy _lied_ to me. She lied about _me_ and about _magic_ and I hate her." She didn't. She was very angry at the woman who had raised her, offended and confused, but not _hurt_ in a way which would eventually lead to implacable loathing. (One had to be capable of feeling love to truly _hate_.) Tom prodded at the confusion, prompting her to elaborate. "She said lying is _wrong_ and she lied to me and then she said sometimes it's okay to lie, so it was a lie about lying being _wrong_ and she could be lying about _anything_." Disorientation. Mistrust. An impression that she'd called Magic in a fit of desperation because she'd suddenly been forced to doubt everything she knew about the sort of person she was supposed to be. Not that she really thought she was very good at being "good", but that was beside the point.

"So you'd rather run away and live with a complete stranger than go home to your family."

She nodded earnestly, then hesitated. "Except, it's not really home, and they're not really my family. Seffie says home is where you belong, and I don't _fit_ there, and Tuney's scared of me and Mummy doesn't want me, I can tell. Not like _you_ don't want _any_ kids, like she doesn't want _me_. She wants me to be...different. I'm...wrong, all the time, even when I try to be good, because that's lying and lying is wrong. Or it _was_. And she doesn't believe Katie and Seffie are real. And she thinks there's something wrong with me for giving Nyx a bath before Seffie made her not dead for me, even though she was dirty and it's _much_ easier to give a cat a bath if it's dead."

Tom snorted, trying not to laugh. "That would be because most people consider death to be a permanent state of affairs. To her, it would have seemed as though you intended to keep a _dead_ cat as a pet."

"That's _dumb_. Why would anyone want to keep a _dead_ cat? Dead things get smelly and squishy if you keep them around too long. And they don't _do_ anything. And I _told_ her she wasn't going to stay dead, anyway!"

This time, he didn't even try not to laugh, skimming the memory of the argument, and the tiny girl refusing to give up her dead kitten to be buried in the garden, because _I_ just _washed her, Mum! We can't_ bury _her, she'll get muddy again!_ It seemed that her sister had found her bathing the kitten in the sink in the loo, her explanation of which had prompted many insulting comments about little Lily's sanity or lack thereof, the summoning of their mother, insistence that Lily could not possibly be Petunia's _biological_ sister, and so on. She'd run out of the house after the woman admitted that she was indeed adopted, bringing the confused argument to an abrupt conclusion. Missus Evans was probably rather distraught at the moment, believing her entirely mad young daughter to be wandering lost on the streets of their run-down factory town clutching a dead cat like a terribly morbid plush toy, which was also a rather amusing image.

"I told you, she's precious," Mesektet giggled.

She glared at both of them. "It's not _funny_." It really was, as was the glare. " _Anyway_ , you're not really a stranger either, 'cause you're Katie's friend, and you're magic too, so you don't think I'm mad, and you might not want to keep me, but you're not scared of me, and you don't think I'm wrong for not being sad that they don't want me, I can tell. And you can teach me things about magic like with Nyx, and Seffie said you don't change the rules like Mum, with the lying—" No, one thing he'd learned _very_ early on in Bella's apprenticeship was to be very clear with his expectations, and he'd made a point of being unfailingly consistent in enforcing whatever rules and consequences he defined, simply because Cygnus and Druella _weren't_. "—so I don't care if you hurt and kill _other people_ , or that you're a _terrible example_ for me—" Also according to Persephone, apparently. "—I still want to stay with you."

Tom gave her a dramatic sigh. He hadn't actually expected that approach to dissuade her, but it had seemed worth a try. " _Fine_. I'm warning you though, I don't know the first thing about parenting."

"Bellatrix will help, I'm sure," the Lady suggested, which wasn't quite as absurd as it sounded. Bella _had_ been deeply involved in raising her younger siblings and cousins, and children inexplicably tended to adore her. "Speaking of which, we should get you off to deal with—" The entirely unpronounceable sound which followed was presumably the Devourer's actual name. "I think I can assure you'll land in a place and time to avert the current prophesied rise simply by arriving, but it will be up to you to dismantle any contingency plans it might have, settle the matter on a more permanent basis."

"A place and time _before_ I end up getting my essence trapped in some spell to capture the sun," Mesektet specified, leading Tom to suspect that _she_ was actually responsible for the Lady's presence. "It won't be permanent, of course, but when it breaks this body will already have gone smelly and squishy, as the little one put it, and do you know how difficult it is finding or arranging an appropriate vessel for one such as myself?"

Tom nodded. "Very well. I already have a strategy in mind to distract it from its mission to forcibly subdue the entire bloody world."

"Do tell."

He frowned at the Egyptian spirit's insultingly disbelieving tone.

"No, don't. It will be more entertaining to watch it unfold in actual time, you know that," Hecate chided her.

"If it works, it shouldn't be very entertaining at all. I'm not an _idiot_ , I know I can't actually subdue the bloody _Devourer_ , and it would be phenomenally unlikely that it wouldn't foresee and avoid any plans I might make to entrap it or force it back out of the universe entirely. Assuming I can resist its enthrallment long enough to catch its interest, however—"

"You will. It hasn't managed to procure an appropriate vessel to fully manifest on the mortal plane — its abilities are limited by its current form," the Lady assured him.

He nodded. "Well then, it seems to me the problem is really just...diverting it, slightly, from its current end-goal."

"It wants to create peace on the mortal plane by uniting all consciousness under its own," Mesektet reminded him.

"Why?"

"Er..."

"Why does it want peace?" he repeated.

The Lady narrowed unnaturally green eyes at him. "Because, Tom, it abhors conflict in much the same way we abhor stasis. It is an irreconcilable difference in philosophy. It _says_ it wishes to save precious human lives, but everyone except—" (the Devourer's proper name) "—knows that's a lie. You cannot convince it that to enthrall the world, to take away their free will, is akin to killing them all anyway, or that choice is itself what makes them human, the only thing of value about their lives. It's been tried, in other times, in other places. Absolutists simply cannot be reasoned with."

"Mmm, yes. But they _can_ be convinced that the methods by which they seek to achieve their perfect world are flawed. That human nature is itself flawed, in their view. That it is _more_ than possible for even a single human consciousness to find elements of conflict within itself. That humans are _terrible_ drones — uniting humanity by enthralling every human in the world, making it a god-on-earth, would only make the Hive Queen itself a source of conflict, as various peoples would inevitably disagree over how best to worship it. Yes, it could issue directives to curtail such infighting, but there are _billions_ of sapient minds out there. Even if it has the capacity to maintain awareness of every individual among them, it takes energy to attend to them directly, prevent uncertainty and jealousy from taking root. At a certain point, the number of bodies and souls it would need to cannibalise to provide that energy, to enforce harmony, would be a greater cost than the lives lost through direct conflict."

"You _did_ hear me say that it doesn't _care_ about the loss of life, Tom. Not really."

"I also heard you say that the only being which believes the lie is the Devourer itself. What's that? A motivational conflict _within the perfect consciousness_? A Power deceiving itself in order to maintain its self-image? Oh, _dear_. Well, now we simply _can't_ force every human to model themselves on _that_ , can we.

"There is, however, an alternative. Rather than simply taking away their free will, which is a terribly juvenile approach to social engineering anyway, that will must be _harnessed_ , convincing individuals, rather than forcing them, to _want_ to unite. Convincing them that they _want_ to work through and resolve such conflicts as naturally arise within and between them in a peaceful and orderly manner, rather than simply suppressing open dissent and allowing it to fester until it explodes into a messy, chaotic _situation_. It might take generations, yes — centuries or millennia, even — but Powers _do_ have an eternity to work with." He gave a light shrug.

Mesektet gaped at him.

Tom winked at her.

"Tom is currently attempting to reform his nation by playing with the minds of schoolchildren, rather than simply bursting into the chambers of governance and directing their leaders to sign his ideals into law," Hecate explained, sniggering.

He rolled his eyes at her. He'd been all of fourteen when he'd last considered — daydreamed about, really — waltzing into the Wizengamot and just _fixing everything_ in one fell swoop. "Yes, well, what can I say, I've grown up." And while an enormously powerful magical entity like the Devourer might have the capacity to enthrall and direct billions, Tom almost certainly couldn't keep every Lord of the Wizengamot in thrall for more than a few minutes, even now. Attempting to do so would be suicidal. He'd dreamed of leading a violent revolution for quite some years after that, but Hogwarts kept him far too busy to coordinate such an effort. Besides, "I believe I mentioned, simply enforcing one's own will on a population is a terribly juvenile approach to social reform."

"So your plan to stop the Devourer from subsuming the will of every human on the planet is teaching it how to influence people more effectively?"

Tom gave a light shrug. "What would you have me do, _oppose_ its goals? It's hardly likely to listen to someone it understands to be fundamentally in conflict with itself. And I'm really not. But there is order in equilibrium as well as in stasis, and it certainly can't hurt to suggest a more sophisticated, more _effective_ method of reaching its end-goal. Both stated and unstated. Of course, achieving long-term peace would require a much deeper understanding of choice and human motivations than any absolutist Power might achieve, so such an effort would be doomed to failure, unless the Power in question were to come to understand and accept such complexities. At which point, I believe your problem would be solved either way."

Hecate smirked at the doubtful expression on the Egyptian Aspect's features. "Stop second-guessing Tyche, Mesektet. You asked for her help, you don't get to question the tools she uses or the ways in which she uses them to accomplish whatever unanticipated confluence of events results in you not dying."

"No, I asked _Death_ to spare this vessel. _Death_ asked Fate and Fortune to arrange for the Devourer's plan to go awry sooner, rather than later—"

"And that is exactly what I'm doing. Putting Tom in such a position as to alter the course of would-be history in this timeline. Arranging a highly improbable circumstance with an almost inevitable outcome wherein you keep your current vessel well beyond the current crisis. In exchange for which Mystery and I get to borrow Lily for a little side project in Drux."

Tom blinked, eyes flicking over to the girl, who had lost control of her cat in her surprise. She shrugged at him. Apparently "Katie" hadn't mentioned this to her, either. "How exactly is this _side project_ of yours related to my own mission in that universe?"

The Lady smirked at him. "Both intimately and quite indirectly, as usual. Your role in the side project is simply to allow my little butterfly to accompany you. The rest will take care of itself. Don't overthink it."

That did _not_ answer Tom's question. Though it did suggest that the Lady was to blame for his apprentice's decision to abduct Mirabella to go on an unplanned holiday, and the subsequent attempt to frame him for murder, which was the entire reason he'd approached Wolfram and Hart and subsequently been contracted to deal with the Devourer in the first place. Or possibly that she'd influenced Angel's advice on how best to go about retrieving the girls. "Does that mean I ought to blame you for this mess, or Bellatrix?"

The Lady gave him one of her ever-so-enigmatic smiles. "Well, Adara's the one framing you for murder, isn't she? Though I'd blame Arcturus, honestly — he was the one who insisted that Bella consider marriage prospects other than yourself." _What?_ "So I suppose in a way you _could_ say it's _your_ fault for making yourself the centre of her life so thoroughly as you have. Really, Tom, you know how complicated any given knot in the Tapestry can be. It's best to just consider these things a collective effort."

He pouted at her. "Fine. Any other bits of cryptic advice you'd like to give me before you send me off to fulfil your promise to Miss Mesektet?"

"Now, Tom, you're not fulfilling my promise, you're fulfilling your contract. You may be a charmer, but you won't be weaseling a boon out of me for simply doing what you would do naturally, when put in a position you entered into freely in pursuit of your own ends."

A position he had clearly been manipulated into, but when dealing with any aspect of Fate or Fortune it was rather difficult to tell exactly how much of one's will actually qualified as _free_. It wasn't worth arguing over. "All the same, any advice you might have to offer would be welcome." It wasn't, after all, as though foiling prophecies in alternate dimensions he knew practically nothing about was really his area of expertise. He didn't like being used as a tool of Chaos, especially _knowingly_. Even if he ended up fulfilling whatever role demanded of him, he always felt like he was bumbling around in a darkened room the entire time.

The Lady grinned. "Oh, I don't know. Hecate?"

"Try not to be too overconfident...don't be afraid to ask for help...don't let her have too much sugar right before bedtime..."

"Ha, bloody ha. I meant with the Devourer."

"Just be yourself, Tom. Do what comes naturally," the Lady offered, which had to apply to the apocalypse intervention, because that sounded like _terrible_ child-rearing advice.

"More immediately, though," Mesektet said, clearly as unamused by the goddesses' silliness as Tom, "There's a non-human being in the building with orders to exterminate every living thing before making its way up here to rip my essence from this vessel. According to the precogs in Intelligence, it's armed with some sort of artefact to prevent dimensional meddling, which means that unless it's stopped before it gets here, I'm dead." Tom nodded. Like Angel, Mesektet was a terrifying force when it came to manipulating different dimensions and planes of existence, but physically? Practically harmless. Presumably there was also some very good reason she couldn't simply retreat, but it was immaterial, really. He didn't ask. "There's less free magic available to perform direct effects than in your home dimension, so simply cutting its head off with a charm is out of the question. It's invulnerable to steel and iron, but only marginally protected against psychic influences. The Devourer likes its creatures to be easily controlled."

"Lovely." That did raise the question why the Firm's mind mages hadn't dealt with the problem themselves, though. They _had_ to have at least one decent legilimens on staff... "Is it actually possessing the murderous minion?"

"No. Its powers are limited due to the inferiority of its current vessel. It can influence people in ways similar to yourself, but it cannot enthrall with a single glance or word, and it can only possess a single physical form, i.e. the vessel. A woman by the name of Cordelia Chase. I understand Tyche has arranged for you to come into contact with it fairly immediately."

The Lady nodded. "That's as far as my influence goes, arranging for you to meet it."

"Also, once the building goes into lockdown, the _in perpetuity_ clause is activated, animating deceased staff with the directive to dispatch any non-staff in the building."

He drummed his fingers on the table, vaguely annoyed. "So there may be hordes of lawyer hands attempting to kill me?" The lawyers of Wolfram and Hart — or most of them, at any rate — Tom understood, had sold their souls to the Firm as a condition of their employment. When they died, if they were still employed by Wolfram and Hart, their souls could be used however the Partners liked, such as to re-animate their own corpses in single-minded pursuit of whatever end they'd been ordered to achieve.

"That's about the shape of it, yes."

"Noted."

"Will that be a problem?"

"Are they resistant to external possession?"

"No."

"Then no." Actually, in that case, any hand which came within his range of influence would become a weapon for him to use against the primary target. Reanimated corpses tended not to have any will of their own to speak of. He could theoretically direct hundreds of them simultaneously, so long as they were working toward a single goal. "Though I do question the wisdom of ambushing me with a six-year-old and insisting that she accompany me on this mission to dispose of monsters and undead lawyers and address your _Devourer_ issue, in addition to whatever other chaos Bella has managed to stir up in the past...however long she's been in this universe."

"Just a few days," Hecate smirked. "I understand she was insulted by what passes for a representative of the Dark in Drux, and has picked a fight with a consciousness calling itself the First Evil."

Of _course_ she had...

"You're not getting out of this, Tom," the Lady said, her tone carrying a certain weight of _inevitability_. ( _Bugger._ ) "Lily has a role to play in that universe, and her addition to your little family opens up a wealth of possibilities in the future of your own universe as well."

"I refuse to believe that there are no other 'little butterflies' you could use to effect your plan, my Lady. And I could simply fetch Lily from her adoptive family when I get back to _our_ universe."

"No!" The girl shook her head violently, her first contribution to the conversation in quite some time. "I _told_ you, I don't wanna go back, and Katie said I don't have to. I wanna stay with _you_ ," she insisted, blinking up at him with begging eyes and the slightest hint of a suggestion, so light only a mind mage would notice, something like _please, please, please don't make me go back_. " _Pleeeeease_... I won't get in the way, I _promise_."

"No," Hecate agreed. "Think of this little adventure as a good father-daughter bonding experience. She really should get to see her new family in their respective elements before you all go home and have to rein yourselves in." Tom raised a _that is total dragonshite_ eyebrow of disbelief at her. "She's _six_. You wouldn't want her to actually believe your act, would you? Just imagine how alienated and rejected she would feel, finding her real daddy, only to discover he's a boring academic who insists he doesn't have imaginary friends, too."

In point of fact, he was certain that Bellatrix would reveal their act of (approximate) normalcy to be exactly that within the first two hours of their meeting, but he was clearly _not_ going to win this argument. " _Fine_. You can come," he said, turning to the girl, who grinned, her clear delight a striking contrast to the quiet unconcern she'd felt throughout most of the earlier conversation.

"Yay!" She hopped to her feet and circled the table to come stand beside him, her tiny hand worming its way into his. Tom...allowed this to happen in much the same way he'd reflexively taken the undead cat now cradled in her other arm. What else was he supposed to do? "Then what are we waiting for, let's go!"

He snorted. "Quite. If that's everything, my Ladies, I believe we're on somewhat of a deadline, here."


	21. Father of the Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So...Seffie was right. Tom really isn't a nice person. At all.
> 
> There are lots of dead people. And dying people. And Milo gets tortured to death. And then there are zombies. And why is everyone acting like it's weird *Lily's* there? The boy with the broken sword doesn't have any better reason to be there, especially with a sword!
> 
> Lily doesn't think she's nearly as creepy as everyone else seems to think. (This is probably just one of those things she's wrong about.)

As soon as Lily and her new father (Dad? Papa? Neither really seemed to fit him...) said goodbye to Katie and Lady Luck and the girl who lived in the all-white not-room (Lily had heard her name at least four or five times, but it kept slipping out of her head), an elevator _dinged_ behind them. When Lily looked around at the sound, the tea table disappeared, just like the flying dragon-horse had earlier. It was very weird, that place. The elevator was even weirder because it was so normal and out of place.

_Tom_ , he thought in her mind, as they rode down in silence. _You can call me Tom. And the girl's name is Mesektet. She's a lesser Egyptian Aspect — a chthonic spirit closely associated with the sun, and its passage through the darkest part of the night._

_Chthonic?_ she thought back experimentally. Talking without words, in her head, was...not a thing she'd ever done with a human before. Animals were different. They didn't really _use_ words, she just sometimes knew what they wanted. Seffie and Katie _could_ talk in her head, but they mostly visited her in dreams. And that wasn't really words, either, just kind of...ideas? But it felt almost the same. _Are_ you _a god, Tom?_

_No. I'm mortal. Well, not quite_ mortal _, I've gone to some trouble to improve my physical form and master a few more esoteric arts few humans practise, on top of my natural talent for legilimency, which is what this is. Me slipping thoughts into your mind. I don't have to audiate them — use words — but most people find it less odd if I do. But I am a physical being, rather than an Aspect of Magic. Chthonic means someone or something associated with the underworld. Like Persephone and Hecate. Though of course they both have roles beyond those associated with Death._

Something about Tom's response felt like he wanted to laugh at her again. Mean. _Katie's not a death goddess_. She didn't _feel_ like one, anyway. Seffie was more...solid, kind of. Deeper. Katie was like looking into the sky, big and open and never-ending, because eventually it turned into space and went on forever. Seffie was like...the opposite of that. Just as _forever_ , but _inside_ instead of _outside_ , and just... Katie wasn't a death goddess, okay, Lily didn't know how she knew that, but she did.

_I'm not being mean. I find you unexpectedly entertaining. And you asked if I was a god. That's funny._ (It seemed like it was worth asking, no one else ever talked inside her head...) _Hecate is an Aspect of Mystery. Magic and the Unknown. Which for most people includes death_ — (oh, right...) — _so she's often associated with death and the underworld as well as any number of other realms of influence. Persephone feels_ inevitable _. She's intimately tied to the cycle which is the turning of the year, death and rebirth. Hecate feels_ infinite _, unbound by mortal conception or physical reality. But they're really just two different names for_ everything _. Magic._

Lily knew that. It sounded true when he said it. Thought it, she meant. She just didn't have the words for it. Before she thought of another question, they reached the third floor, according to the little light-up thing over the door, and the elevator stopped, dinging again. It opened onto a fancy office building looking sort of place. The area right in front of the elevator was dark — actually, probably everything was dark, Lily didn't see any light other than what came in from the city outside the windows, like from down the hallway or anything — but she didn't need light to tell that all the people lying on the floor were dead, or almost dead. There were dark splashes on the walls which would be red, she knew, _so_ much blood — she could _smell_ it — and something about the air felt... _thin_ , like when Seffie visited her outside of dreams. And also _dry_. She almost choked on her first breath coming out of the elevator.

_That would be the lack of ambient magic. Follow me. Quietly._

He didn't need to say quietly. There was a commotion happening somewhere off to their right, screaming and doors slamming and sounds like Mum chopping up a chicken, but _much_ louder and bigger, and Tom was leading her toward it _very_ fast, skipping over bodies and sweeping through offices and down hallways like he knew exactly where he was going, his long black coat sweeping out behind him, all serious and dramatic.

There was a gunshot somewhere ahead of them, much louder than guns seemed on telly, then another. Two. Three. They got stuck in one room for a minute because Tom had to drag a corpse out of the way of the door to open it. By the time they got through, the gunshots had stopped, but they were close enough to hear a woman moan in pain and then a sick thump as her body was thrown to the floor. When they reached the door, a giant, horned demon-monster, his skin all cracked and lumpy, was staring at a shaggy-haired boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen but not actually a grown-up. He looked scared, standing on a desk with a broken sword in his hand — she was pretty sure he'd just tried to stab the monster and it hadn't worked.

The monster that apparently knew him? The way it said, " _Connor_ ," all disappointed, like trying to stab it wasn't all that terrible a thing to do, but a less-than-good choice, kind of sounded like it did.

"Sorry to interrupt," Tom said loudly, not sounding sorry at all. He stepped over a bunch of papers that had gotten thrown on the floor and the outstretched arm of the woman they'd heard just a moment ago. "But unfortunately, I've been tasked with your execution."

Lily didn't know if the fact that he was so calm and obviously unarmed made him more or less threatening, but she was leaning toward _more_. That thing had to be a foot taller than him _not_ counting the horns, and it had claws and _muscles_ (Tom was kind of skinny), and apparently couldn't be shot or cut with a sword, even if Tom had one, which he didn't. And he _still_ didn't seem at _all_ concerned about getting killed like all the people they'd seen on the way here.

The monster didn't think so, she didn't think. It scoffed at him. "The boy must live."

"I'm not here for _Connor_ , Milo."

_Milo?_ What kind of name was _that_ for a murderous demon monster thing?

Even _weirder_ , Milo (apparently) didn't tell him he'd guessed wrong. "Do I know you?"

Tom shrugged, still moving closer to the demon and the boy. Lily hovered by the door, staying out of the way like she'd promised. The woman on the floor moved, pulling in her arm and turning her head to look at the demon and, seeing it was distracted, began to crawl toward Lily (and the exit, obviously). "No. But I know you. Mesektet would rather _not_ be inconvenienced by your plan to use her to ensnare the sun and bring about your queen's rise. I must admit, I'm not terribly certain how those two events are connected, but she apparently has reason to believe they are, and in any case has called in a favour. So."

"Hey, you! Girl! Help me," the woman hissed.

Lily wasn't terribly certain what she could possibly do to help, but she crept forward anyway, let the woman use her to pull herself to her feet. She staggered toward the door, pulling Lily with her like a crutch, and clutching at her stomach with her other hand. "Wait! Where are we going? I can't _leave!_ "

"Who— What are you doing here?"

Well, nothing, really, but, "Getting lost is almost as bad as getting in the way. I'm sorry, but I can't go."

"Is this a joke? I could kill you with one hand!"

Tom sighed, pausing to examine a broken picture frame on a desk — just to look even more unbothered, Lily thought. "You're welcome to _try_."

The creature lunged at him, one arm outstretched. Lily _eeped_ at the suddenness of it, but Tom was expecting it, his own hand sweeping up lightning-fast, jabbing a piece of glass into one of the cracks in the monster's skin. It _bellowed_ at him, the tiny stab not even slowing it down, just making it angrier. Tom seemed to realise that, or maybe that he was hurting himself worse, cutting up his own hand, because he threw the bloodied glass away. The demon's taloned fingers closed around his throat, Tom grabbing at its barely stabbed arm with both hands, as though that would _stop_ it from breaking his neck — if he went and got himself killed _right_ after she found out he existed, she was going to be _so_ angry with him...

Milo stopped. Its fingers loosened. Tom stepped back, smirking in the flickering light coming through the window, his eyes glowing red as he did...whatever he was doing to control the monster. "I'd say I take no pleasure in this, but that would be a lie."

He leaned against the desk again with a perfectly blank face fixed firmly in place as the demon's claws... As the demon's claws turned on _itself_ , digging into its own flesh, tearing itself apart. Whatever Tom did, it couldn't scream, or bellow, or whatever, but Lily could tell it wanted to, its horror and pain washing over her with the smell of its blood, running down its chest. It fell to its knees and then to the floor, but its hands didn't stop. Lily didn't want to watch, but she found she couldn't look away. Not _really_ couldn't, she did look up to see the boy — he'd come to help the woman stay standing when Lily had refused to leave — and the woman looking sick and horrified, but the meaty squishing sounds and the cracking of bones drew her eyes back to the creature, apparently determined to dig its own heart out of its chest, and Tom watching with that same not-quite-here look.

Okay, when Seffie said Tom was not a good person by _anyone's_ standards, that he liked to hurt people, liked to kill them in ways more horrible than Lily could imagine, she'd been right. Lily definitely hadn't imagined... _this_.

She...wasn't really sure how she felt about it. The monster had obviously just murdered loads of people, but making it claw itself to death was just... _yech_. Made her stomach do a little uncomfortable flippy thing in a way all the other dead people around didn't. Also, kind of gross.

And how was he _doing_ it, anyway?

She wasn't sure how long it went on, but she didn't think it was very long before Tom frowned. "Say it aloud for our friends."

"Mercy... Please..." the creature moaned. Gurgled. There must be blood in its lungs. Tom had apparently let it go enough to talk, and to scream, as its right hand scrabbled for a long, sharp piece of wood, maybe part of a broken chair or something. Apparently it changed its mind about that quick death, seeing the makeshift stake hovering over its own face, begging and pleading not _that_ , either, and gasping for air. It only stopped when the wood slammed home, stabbed straight through an eye and deep into its brain.

Tom shivered, shaking his head as though to clear it, then gave a not quite satisfied sigh, turning to his shocked, horrified audience of three. "Too quick, but I suppose we are on a deadline, anyway. Shall we go, then?"

"Who the hell are you?" the boy asked, holding the broken sword between them like he might stab Tom if he came too close.

The woman's question was, " _What_ the hell are you?"

Lily's was still, "How did you _do_ that?" She crept closer to get a better look at the mutilated corpse. Yeah, that was _exactly_ as bad as it looked from the door, holy _crap_...

_Blood magic to facilitate direct possession, I can explain later._ "Tom Riddle, I wouldn't expect you to have heard of me — and I _am_ a sick motherfucker, yes, but also entirely human, Ms Morgan."

He didn't actually _look_ very human, now that Ms Morgan mentioned it. (Er...thought it, probably.) Lily hadn't really _noticed_ , what with the air being weird and all the dead people (and not-quite-dead people who were more distracting) and the scary monster and the woman wanting her help and Tom being _even scarier_ than the monster, but somewhere between the elevator and here, he'd started looking kind of like a lizard man. Plus she'd been behind him most of the time, and he was wearing a hat, so it hadn't been nearly as obvious that all of his hair had been replaced by little white scales. His nose and ears were...not _gone_ , but sort of...flattened, and his eyes were the same shape as hers still, but also still red and slightly glowing rather than light blue. The woman didn't look like she believed him, and Lily didn't really blame her.

_My glamours failed when we left the elevator._

"Surely you are familiar with the concept of making cosmetic alterations to one's body and appearance, Ms Morgan. And I'm absolutely _certain_ that there are more important matters to discuss at the moment than my youthful desire to distance myself from humanity. I'm currently contractually obligated to deal with your little problem here, so what's the protocol for calling off an emergency lockdown? Preferably _before_ the hands begin to rise. I'm afraid I neglected to ask Mesektet...?" Both of the others continued to stare silently at them. "The creepy kid is called Lily, Connor, and if I were you, I would choose to join us. There are shortly to be a large number of undead lawyers attempting to kill us both, so."

Lily glared up at the boy. "I'm not creepy, you're mean!"

_You look perfectly normal, but you're in the middle of what amounts to a slaughterhouse, accompanied by a man who looks nearly as strange to them as Milo did to you, surrounded by the corpses of sapient beings, one of whom you just watched me torture to death. The fact that you're here at all is exceedingly strange, not unlike the elevator appearing in the White Room, earlier._ Oh, right, she'd forgotten about that. _The fact that you appear unfazed by your surroundings is creepy. And the cat doesn't really help._

_You're creepier than I am, knowing their names without anyone telling you. And what kind of name is_ Milo _, anyway? And what's wrong with Nyx? They don't know she's undead._

_Milo is the only part of his name I could pronounce, and the kitten makes you appear even more innocent, and therefore more out of place. Regardless of her independent vitality or lack thereof._

"She's my daughter. I couldn't find a sitter," he added sarcastically, just as their shocked staring was starting to get awkward. It wasn't really that long, thinking at people took less time than talking out loud. "Can we focus on the imminent reanimation of the vast majority of your colleagues, Ms Morgan? _Thank_ you. Come, Lily."

She hurried to follow the three of them out of the office, leaving the _very_ dead monster behind.

They didn't manage to find a way to stop the hands (zombies basically, though Tom said they were different) from waking up. Ms Morgan didn't know how, and they couldn't find any Security people (apparently they were in charge of the zombie army) and she _was_ hurt — bad, needs a hospital _hurt_ , stabbed in the belly — so they decided they'd better just get out. She thought the zombies would "stand down" when there were no more non-staff people in the building anyway.

They _did_ find a man named Wesley, who seemed to know both Connor and Ms Morgan. Well, he found _them_ actually, just a few hallways away, jumping out of a dark office at them. Connor almost stabbed him. Lily wasn't really sure what he was doing there — he didn't _look_ like a lawyer _at all_ — any more than she knew why _Connor_ was there. Ms Morgan had obviously been at work when Milo attacked, but Lily thought it had to be almost as weird that a teenage boy with a sword was here as it was that she was here with Nyx.

Ms Morgan _did_ know the way to a secret escape tunnel, hidden in a supply closet with a bunch of toilet paper. It went down to the sewers, which...seemed like a bad idea? (It definitely _smelled_ like a bad idea, even worse than all the blood and stuff.) It was just, Mum always said to keep cuts and things clean, and sewers _definitely weren't_. It was cleaner than Lily had _expected_ when Wesley said they were going in a sewer — some kind of "service tunnel" that was actually cleaner than the office with all the dead people (some of them pee'd or poo'd themselves when they died, on top of all the blood) — but it still wasn't _nice_. They walked for what seemed like a really long way, and eventually ended up in the basement of a big, old hotel that belonged to Connor's dad.

It was _really_ fancy, but seemed really empty. Connor wanted to sneak out before anyone knew he was there — it sounded like he and his dad were in a fight about...something — but his dad was in the lobby with four other people and a bunch of books and maps and stuff (one of the people was green), talking about Connor and the demon Tom had just killed — it...set the sky on fire the night before? _why?_ — so that whole sneaking by unnoticed plan didn't really work out for him.

There was a _lot_ of shouting between them and one of the women, the older of the two (though she wasn't really old, younger than Mum) trying to calm them down, and between Wesley and the two other (probably) human people, a man and a woman. They were mostly arguing about Ms Morgan, Lily thought, and what to do with her. (Call an ambulance? obviously?) Ms Morgan herself was mostly passed out on a round couch, with the green man poking at her wound and saying things like, "This doesn't look too hot, guys."

Tom was just kind of _watching_ , waiting for them to notice they were there, maybe? You'd think that a snake-person and a little girl showing up in the middle of their...whatever was going on at the lawyers' office, would be maybe something they would care about, but apparently they were too distracted by their own arguments.

Connor's dad did get around to it eventually, though. There was a lull in Wesley's argument, so it was quiet enough to hear him clearly when he demanded to know, "And who are _these_ people?!"

"I don't _know!_ " the boy shouted back. "The Beast was killing _everyone_ , and then they just showed up out of _nowhere_ , and he...killed the Beast, and I still don't know what it had to do with _me—_ "

"He killed the Beast?" the woman interrupted. " _How?_ "

"Staked it through the eye," Connor said.

Lily wondered why he didn't tell them what _really_ happened, or what happened before the eye-staking, but there must be a reason, so she didn't ask.

_Connor grew up in a dimension full of dangerous monsters. He's...not_ accustomed _to witnessing that sort of violence, per se, but it's not unduly shocking to him, and he is willing to set it aside in his formation of an opinion on my general character, given that he believes I was in the right to kill Milo. He suspects that the others here would not._

Er...right.

"You _staked_ it?! All the research we've been doing turns up squat, and this guy just turns up out of nowhere and _stakes_ the monster that kicked all of your butts last night? I repeat: _how?_ And what's with the kid?"

"Maybe we should all get to know each other a little before we go talking about all that?" the green man suggested. "And I know we don't like her, but we can't just let Miss Lilah here die in our lobby."

"No, we can't," Wesley insisted. "We need to get her to hospital."

"Gunn, you take her," Connor's dad ordered the human man who had been arguing with Wesley. "Ditch her at intake, they'll take care of her and no one will have to come up with an explanation for the E.M.T.s. Fred can fill you in when you get back," he added, as the man opened his mouth to object.

"Fine." He scooped the lawyer off the sofa thing, carrying her toward the door. The woman who was on his side arguing with Wesley followed him a few steps away from them to say something too quiet for Lily to hear, and popped up on her tip-toes to give him a kiss. He seemed a lot less annoyed after that, giving her a warm smile on his way out.

"I suggest we start with introductions," the green man said. "I'm Lorne. And you, Sir Beast-Slayer...?"

Tom's face twisted in what might've been a smirk. It was hard to tell when his lips were all...not there and snakey. "Tom Riddle. Late of a dimension rather removed from this one. It seems that the Senior Partners had a change of heart regarding a potential alliance with the force behind the impending apocalypse when they realised what it was, and allowed Mesektet to enlist my assistance in foiling the plan in question in exchange for safe passage between our dimensions. This is my recently discovered daughter, Lily."

"And Nyx," Lily added, playing with the kitten's ears. She was sleeping again, because keeping her awake and doing anything else at the same time was _hard_.

Tom rolled his eyes, like it wasn't important to introduce Nyx. ( _Because it's_ not _important to introduce your cat_.) "Yes, the undead cat is called Nyx."

" _Undead_ _cat_?" Connor's dad repeated.

"She's a birthday present from Seffie."

"Don't ask," Tom advised them. "And you are?"

"Angel," Connor's dad said shortly. Now that everyone wasn't shouting, it was easier to focus just on him. There was something...weird about him. All still and cold. But a weirdly _energetic_ cold.

_He's a vampire._

Oh. Why did _he_ think an undead cat was weird, then? _He_ was undead himself!

"This is my son, Connor."

"We've _met_ , Angel," Connor grumped. Angel glared at him.

"You also obviously already know Wesley. This is Fred." The younger woman gave them a weak smile. "Her beau, the one who just left, is called Gunn. And this is Cordelia." The older woman was still glaring at them suspiciously.

Tom let out a little huff of laughter. "Well, I knew the Lady was good, but," he muttered, then more loudly, "Well met, Angel. Krevlornswath. Miss Burkle. My Lady. I propose that we consider the Law of Hospitality to be in effect, regardless of our obvious inability to share a meal," he added before any of them could question his creepy knowing-names thing, or that he called Cordelia _my Lady_.

"I think we can agree to that," Angel said. A tension Lily hadn't noticed until it was gone disappeared from the air around them.

"Er...what does that mean, exactly?" The girl called Fred asked. (Lily had assumed Fred was the green man, before he introduced himself as Lorne.) "And how did you know my last name?"

"I know many things, Miss Burkle," Tom said, all mysteriously, making the girl look even more uncomfortable.

"He's psychic," Lily volunteered.

_Psychic is a_ very _vague term, Lily._

_So?_ "And hospitality is _xenia_. We're all friends as long as we stay here. Or I guess since there's no bread or salt or actual _hosting_ , until Tom or Angel tells the other one we're not. If we hurt you or you hurt us, that's breaking hospitality, and the gods punish you as an oathbreaker." Katie had all sorts of stories about gods pretending to be humans and going around staying with random people to make sure they were following the rules and being good hosts to travellers.

Angel nodded, giving her a weird look, like she shouldn't know that. "It's like a truce, Fred — assurance that the stranger you invited in isn't going to murder you in your bed."

"Or vice versa," Tom murmured, his eyes fixed on Cordelia and/or the Devourer. She looked _furious_ that Angel had just agreed for all of them.

"You are welcome to stay here, of course," Angel added, slightly reluctantly, Lily thought. "Not like we don't have the rooms."

"It would be an insult to our host to refuse," Tom said, giving Angel a little bow.

"So, _how_ , exactly, did you kill the Beast?" Cordelia asked again.

"It was invulnerable to iron, but other materials — glass and wood, specifically — were able to penetrate its defenses, my Lady. I used blood-contact to establish a bond between us, possessed it, and tore it apart with its own hands."

"And staked it with its own hand," Connor added.

Tom shrugged. Nodded. "I was in a charitable mood. It begged for mercy; mercy was granted. I suppose I ought to offer my condolences, my Lady — not only for Milo, but for the inevitable failure of your scheme. I hold no enmity toward you personally, you understand—"

"What are you talking about, Riddle?" Wesley interrupted, shooting a suspicious look between Tom and the increasingly angry Devourer.

"The Power formerly known as...well, I can't pronounce its name, obviously, but I suppose we can continue to call her Cordelia, has been plotting to embody herself on the mortal plane and enthrall all sentient life on Earth, thus achieving what she likes to call _world peace_ , and incidentally turn herself into a living goddess, worshipped by every being on the planet. I'm sure that's just a minor side-benefit, though."

While everyone else stared, completely shocked, Cordelia took three quick steps and slapped Tom hard across the face. " _Why?_ " the Devourer hissed. "Why would you..."

"Well, I hate to break it to you," he said sarcastically, pressing a hand to the cheek she had slapped, "but literally every other Power hates you."

"You've ruined _everything!_ You're _not supposed to BE HERE!_ "

"A fact I am acutely aware of. The reason I am is entirely immaterial. It was _never_ going to work, my Lady. Fate simply won't allow you to forcibly subdue the will of the entire human population. It _would_ have let you get _closer_ , certainly, if not for unexpected external opportunities, but only for the entertainment value in watching the humans' attempts to resist. You would inevitably have been foiled by some other unlikely means at the height of your triumph, to make your fall all the more dramatic. And painful. Because they hate you."

"Cordy? Cordelia, is he... That's not true, is it?" Connor asked, clearly shaken.

"Of course it is," she spat. "They don't _understand_ , they don't _care!_ Not _really!_ If they did, they would never have allowed you humans to become so divided, so conflicted! War and hunger and suffering and— People like _you_ wouldn't even _exist_ , Riddle!"

"Ironic, given that we agree on the most important thing — that people can't get along unless you _make_ them get along. I have great respect for peace and order. I'm not here to antagonise you, I'm here to help you."

"Well, you're doing a _bang_ -up job so far!" the furious Power said, gesturing at her former friends, now surrounding them with weapons drawn.

"The other Powers _will not_ allow you to crush the will of humanity, my Lady. Stasis would be _boring._ And even if you were to enthrall every single one of them, chaotic impulses would still arise among and within them. Insufferably frustrating as it may be, chaos _is_ inherent in humanity. I do believe there is still a way for lasting peace and order to be achieved without directly stifling all choice and thereby alarming the other Powers, but that would perhaps be better discussed in private."

Cordelia the Devourer hesitated, staring at Tom for a long moment, like she was trying to read _his_ mind. "If this is not some lie or trick, why would you help me, Riddle?"

Tom tipped his head to one side. When he spoke, it sounded like he might've had a sad smile, if lizard-men smiled. "Perhaps because there is a part of me which longs for an order and simplicity which mortal hands alone will never achieve. Perhaps because life is loud and messy and discordant and I hate it. I would admittedly prefer to burn this world to the ground, but achieving perfect unity or even just entirely domesticating it would be _closer_ to such sterile perfection, at least. Perhaps because it irks me to be used thusly by Chaos, manipulated into doing the Lady's bidding." He shrugged, like everything he'd just said wasn't almost _painfully_ true. (He'd meant every word, Lily could tell.) "As I said, my Lady, we should discuss the problem at greater length, in greater privacy."

She sniffed at him. "Very well, then. Get that thing out of my face Fred," she snapped, turning on her heel to stalk off and finding a crossbow pointed at her head.

"We're not letting you leave," Angel said firmly.

"Oh, for God's sake, Angel! I'm not _leaving_ , leaving!" she snapped, pushing through the circle. "I'm just going to my room!"

"Fred, Wesley, make sure she stays there. I'll send Gunn to relieve you when he gets back, Wes." The two humans nodded, following their possessed friend up a staircase. Tom turned to go, too, but Angel said, "Oh, no you don't, buddy. I've got some questions for you!"

Tom chuckled. "It's generally not a good idea to keep a lady waiting, Angel."

"Yeah, well, tell her it's my fault, I'm pretty sure she'll understand."

Tom shrugged like he didn't really agree that she'd understand, but he wasn't going to waste time arguing about it. "Ask your questions, then."

"Who are you?" Angel began.

Before Tom could answer, Connor added, "That's not Cordelia?"

Lorne asked _Lily_ , "Are you okay, there, Lily-pad?"

Lily, not expecting anyone to be paying attention to her, startled slightly at the weird question. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

_Because you've just been exposed to at least one gruesome murder — likely more, based on Connor's observation that Milo was killing everyone at the law office before we arrived on the scene — and the fact that there is blood on your dress._ Was there? Poo. Mum would be so angry if she knew... _You're also too quiet and well-behaved for a normal six-year-old — not that I'm complaining. He thinks you're in shock._ Lily didn't really know what that was. _Emotionally traumatised. Too scared to react properly._

Oh. No, she was pretty sure this was just one of those things she was _wrong_ about. How was she _supposed_ to be reacting?

_Scared? Horrified? Don't bother — it's incredibly tedious and if you miss the mark in portraying that sort of visceral emotion, it makes people even less comfortable than not reacting. Ask Mirabella to show you when we catch up with the girls._

Right. She would try to remember that. It might be easier if she knew anything about "the girls" other than that Tom was looking for them, and he was angry with them for going on holiday without telling anyone. And one of them was maybe kind of sort of like another adopted sister? (Hopefully nicer than Petunia...)

Tom didn't respond to her hinting that she wanted to know more about them, even though she _knew_ he heard it. He heard every other random thing she was wondering about.

_You're in the middle of a conversation at the moment. With Lorne._

Oh. Right.

"Er..." the green man hesitated, obviously unwilling to say _because there were loads of dead people around and normal people care about that._

"They were only dead people. Tom killing Milo was kind of horrible, but no one tried to kill _me_ or anything." Lily shrugged. "I wish we had time to help all the _almost_ dead people. I know we had to go, because of Ms Morgan and the zombies and everything, but I still feel bad about leaving them."

The green man's red eyes (not the same scary red as Tom's, but a brighter, more... _Christmas-y_ red) went all soft. "Aw, honey-bee... There's nothing you could've done for them anyway. If they were worse off than Miss Lilah..."

"We could've killed them." _Obviously_. Or...Lily thought that was obvious, at least.

Lorne flinched back like she'd hit him or something.

_That would be because a small child advocating mercy-killings is both creepy and slightly terrifying_ , Tom thought, laughing at her again _. He's seriously questioning my parenting abilities, given the fact that you are clearly not right in the head._

"They were _already_ dying, and they were _suffering_! Letting people suffer when you could help them is _bad_."

"Think I'm gonna have to side with the kid on this one, Lorne," Angel said. "But did you say _zombies?_ "

"Hands, technically — reanimated with their own souls, enslaved to the controller's directives. In this case, to clear the building of non-staff, according to Mesektet."

"And Mesektet would be...?"

"The Senior Partners' secretary, essentially. The doorkeeper of the White Room."

Angel raised an eyebrow at him all surprised. "The creepy, evil little girl?"

Tom nodded. "The spirit possessing that vessel, but yes."

"She's not _evil_ ," Lily corrected them. "Or creepy. She's nice!" She'd given Lily tea and biscuits and, well, she'd mostly talked to Lady Luck and Katie, and Lily mostly listened and didn't understand what they were talking about, but that was what grown-ups _did_. (Katie and Mesektet were actually grown-ups, even if they looked like kids.)

They ignored her. (Which was also a thing grown-ups did.) "And who are _you_?"

"Tom Riddle, Master of Dark Arts and Magical Theory from...an alternate Britain, essentially. I'm here because my apprentice took her best friend on holiday without telling anyone, and her presence is required at home. Or because in order to secure transportation between our universes, I agreed to stop the Power inhabiting Ms Chase from taking over this world. Or because Mesektet didn't want her current vessel to die so she pulled some strings, and I've been enlisted as a tool to fulfil some three-way bargain between certain other Powers. Lily is here because she got into an argument with her adoptive mother over whether she could keep a dead cat as a pet, learned she was adopted, ran away from home, and convinced her imaginary friends to bring her to me. No, I didn't know about her before today. Yes, I am reading your mind. Now you're just being childish, but pears. And that _is_ the question, isn't it, Connor."

"What's the question?" Lorne asked.

"What about Cordelia? What— What _is_ she? It? She's _possessed?_ How do we save her?" Connor asked.

" _What about Cordelia_ was the question," Tom informed him. "The entity possessing her, not the human consciousness. What was her plan, does she have contingencies in place, has my interference thus far _actually_ ruined everything, or is there still some way for her to salvage her original objective. We could simply kill the vessel, forcing the Power back into an incorporeal form and thus largely out of any position to affect this plane, of course, but—"

"No!" Connor shouted. "She– We _can't!_ Cordy..."

Tom chuckled. "She was already possessed when she shagged you, you know." Connor went _very_ red under his father's disapproving glare, making Lily wonder exactly what _shagging_ was. She knew it was _sex_ , but she didn't actually know what sex was. Neither did Tuney, even though she sometimes tried to _act_ like she did, just to make Lily feel stupid. Mum said it was a grown-up thing. ( _That would also be something to ask Mirabella_ , Tom thought at her, yet another of those silent laughing feelings surrounding it.) "Granted, I don't know how long she's _been_ possessed, but certainly more than two days. As for saving the human Cordelia Chase, you don't."

"We _have_ to! We can't just— You can't _kill her!"_

"No one's killing Cordelia," Angel said firmly.

"Of course not. As I was saying, killing that vessel wouldn't resolve the problem of the Hive Queen attempting to enthrall this universe, only put it off for a few centuries. Maybe a millennium. Which would solve the problem so far as any of _you_ are concerned, perhaps, but—"

"No, it wouldn't! You'd be killing Cordelia, too! _Human_ Cordelia!"

"Hey, hey, woah, who's killing Cordy?" Gunn, the one who'd taken Ms Morgan to hospital, was back, apparently.

Angel and Lorne had to catch him up on everything he'd missed, about Cordelia the Devourer...being Cordelia the Devourer, and not _just_ Cordelia, and about who Tom was, and how he was a creepy mind reader, and also kind of working for Wolfram and Hart, who were supposedly evil, even though Lily still thought Mesektet was nice. But eventually they got back to not killing Cordelia the Human just to ruin Cordelia the Devourer's plans.

"It's irrelevant," Tom said, all serious and annoyed. "It would be counterproductive to move to disembody the Hive Queen at this juncture, regardless of the means employed."

"But we _have_ to!" Everyone turned to look at Connor. "We have to save Cordelia! Get that thing out of her! Do an– an exorcism, or something!"

"Ah... There's... It's like this, kid," Lorne said, but he didn't actually say what was like what, just kind of trailed off, throwing a helpless look at Tom.

"There's a very good chance that there is no human Cordelia left to save. Also, I feel I should point out, even if there were, she wouldn't be any more likely to shag you again."

Angel and Connor both glowered at him. Their faces were very different, they barely looked related, but that look was _exactly_ the same. "What is that supposed to mean, that there's no human Cordelia left to save?" Angel asked.

Tom sighed. "It _means_ that the entity possessing her has most likely eaten her soul, or else so deeply enthralled her that the Cordelia you once knew functionally no longer exists."

"But you don't _know_ that!" Connor objected desperately.

"Well, _no_ , I'm not an idiot — I'm not going to go poking around in the mind of a bloody god, especially one who's known for using mind magic to enslave people. But it's incredibly unlikely there's anything left of the human Cordelia."

"You don't know Cordy, either," Angel told him. "She's... She's one of the strongest people I've ever met. If there's any chance at all..."

"Yes, yes, by all means try to find some way to save your beloved oracle. I would recommend first seeking some means by which to verify that her soul actually persists. In the meanwhile, however, I have a Power to corrupt. If you'll excuse me," he said firmly, turning to go find Cordelia the Devourer's room.

Lily wasn't sure, but she didn't think she was invited. She thought Tom wanted to talk to the evil body-snatcher (which was what Gunn called the Devourer) in private.

_Indeed. Evil, however, is even more vague a term than psychic. Right and wrong are a matter of perspective. Hardly anyone believes_ themselves _to be evil. In her own mind, this is the only way to achieve world peace. Free will leads only to conflict and pain. She believes it would be a gift for all humanity to be united under one mind, with one purpose. Humanity is_ suffering _and that's_ bad _, as you would put it._

_Hey! I'm not evil!_

Tom laughed at her inside her own head again. _Connor thinks you are._

Well, Connor was a _stupid meanie._

_He's a naive, confused, self-centred teenager. His motivations are, however, primarily benevolent. Much like Cordelia's. Anyone hurt in the process of saving humanity from itself, well... Have you heard the phrase_ the ends justify the means _?_

_No._

_It means that she believes she's allowed to do things she considers bad in the pursuit of something she perceives as good, if the balance on the whole is more "good" than "bad". Presuming she succeeds, of course. If she doesn't, all the death and destruction she's wrought in the course of her attempts to subdue the violence in humanity were for nothing. Which of course means she believes she can't stop trying, despite setbacks such as this. If she_ gave up _, she_ would _be evil in her own mind, causing conflict and death and suffering, all for nothing._

So how was he going to change her mind and make her stop, then?

_I'm_ not _. I'm going to convince her there's a way to accomplish her goals which_ can _succeed._

"Hey, Riddle, you forgetting something?" Gunn said, pointing at Lily when Tom turned back around.

"I suspect that Lily is quite capable of entertaining herself while I speak with Cordelia," he said, a small smile tugging at his non-lips. "The dangers she might encounter within the confines of this building are rather minimal, and she knows to behave herself when she's a guest in someone else's home." Then he turned and started walking away again.

"Father of the year, that one," Lorne grumbled under his breath. He didn't seem to like Tom much.

Angel sighed. "Gunn, go with him. Relieve Wesley. Tell him I need him down here looking for any reference to a Power That _Was_ , mind-controlling magics, and how to keep creepy warlocks from reading our minds. Connor... I think you and I need to have a talk." Connor didn't look at _all_ happy about that, but he didn't try to actually _leave_ , or anything. "Lorne, you know I hate to ask, but..."

"Oh, no problem, I love kids. You and Junior go have your heart-to-heart. I'll keep an eye on the little Tiger Lily."

"Great. Come on, Connor. My office." He grabbed his son by the shoulder and sort of pushed-led him away, leaving Lily alone with Lorne.

He sighed. "Well. What do I do with _you_?"

Lily shrugged. She was just kind of going along with everything, here. "I'm hungry." She really was. She was starting to think the biscuits Mesektet had given her with tea were pretend. But they should also share food for _xenia_. Even if Angel didn't eat — she was guessing that was why Tom said they couldn't share a meal, because vampires didn't eat _food_ — and Tom wanted to talk to Cordelia the Devourer more than he wanted to have dinner, _someone_ should be the host and the guest.

The green man brightened at that. "I can do food. Well, I can do take-out. And while we wait, how do you feel about cranberry juice? Because I could use a drink."

"Okay." She let him lead her a few steps toward (probably) the kitchen, or something, before her curiosity got the better of her. "You're not human, are you? I mean, you don't _look_ human, but Tom doesn't look human either, but he says he is, so I thought I should ask. Where are you from? Are we in America somewhere? What is this place? It _looks_ like a hotel, but you all left your books and things. Do you live here? Do you have a family? Why are Connor and Angel angry at each other? Where did Connor grow up? Tom said it was somewhere else with lots of dangerous monsters. Well, thought it at me, you know what I mean. But he made it seem like Angel didn't. Is he really a vampire? Is that why we're not all having dinner together? I thought it was, but I guess it could be because _Tom_ doesn't eat. I didn't ask. I also didn't ask if Nyx needs to eat. Do you know if undead cats need food like living cats? 'Cos I don't know if I can eat cat food. It smells really icky..."


	22. What do you think?

"Hey, Willow, got a minute?"

Willow looked up to see Bellatrix leaning in her doorway all casual-like, as though she wasn't being followed around by the single most terrifying person Willow had ever met. Not that "Kiki" really _looked_ all that scary anymore. Dawn had managed to find actual clothes for her too, rather than whatever that thing was she'd been wearing for the ritual that had turned her into the Slayer — or at least, Willow _thought_ it was some sort of death-related ritual costume, it'd be kinda weird if she went around with her face painted like a skull all the time, and she hadn't tried to find some way to replicate the mask when Bella washed it off — and where the little demon girl just _looked_ like she was about thirteen, the young Slayer actually _was_ just a little girl. (Which was why she edged out the demon for _most terrifying person ever._ )

A little girl with a wickedly sharp knife at her waist, and a spirit of death and destruction haunting her serious, dark eyes. On the rare occasion Bella wasn't smirking or laughing, but actually taking something seriously, it was strangely easy to see why she might consider the little Slayer something like a sister. They obviously looked nothing alike, aside from their eyes, but those were _exactly_ the same. They moved similarly too, all predator stalking you graceful — quiet and _deadly_.

And the demon girl was serious now.

"Uh, sure Bella. What's up?"

It had been a quiet two days, really, in the wake of the demons' arrival, and then Chloe's death and forging the Potentials into a coven to help protect each other, and Buffy and Bella going off on their Slayer quest, and Kiki showing up and attaching herself to Bella.

Principal Wood found some excuse to have Xander's company come in and "touch up" some "unfinished" spots in the basement, so there was a nice new concrete floor in the way of anyone who might want to open the portal again (which was gonna be awfully hard to do without a couple of hours and a jackhammer or two), and Xander was actually getting paid for it and everything.

Buffy, Principal Wood, Bella, and Kiki had gone patrolling last night, specifically trying to hunt down the Bringers (with limited success, Hot Shit was apparently trying to stop them being picked off), though they'd managed to find a couple of newly-risen vampires as well, giving Kiki a chance to test her new instincts and reflexes against actual enemies. Buffy and Bella had apparently had to restrain her to stop her running off in search of more "prey" in the wake of the quick and brutal dusting. (Bella hadn't been able to stop giggling, telling the story at breakfast.)

Andrew had cobbled together a flamethrower prototype from things he'd salvaged from Mrs. Meers's basement, and accidentally set a hydrangea on fire testing it.

But generally speaking, it had been a nice little break, time to regroup, and...try to deal with the fall-out from earlier in the week. Dawn, Willow knew, hadn't gone back to school, instead spending her days helping Giles with research, and Kennedy was avoiding Willow by spending all her time with the other Potentials, still upset about the accidental life-sucking-out incident. Willow was trying not to take it too personally, give her space, so she'd been looking into a thing that might be able to help Spike figure out how that whole _trigger_ thing worked. Though Spike seemed to be somewhat less than really _concerned_ about that. Willow was pretty sure he'd bitten Mira again at least once, because he was looking awfully _peppy_ lately, and guiltily avoiding Buffy's eyes whenever they were in the same room. Though that might also be because he was _definitely_ "shagging" the horny bunny, even though she was totally demon jailbait. (Buffy and Anya had been bonding a bit over their mutual dislike of Mira, which was kind of funny.)

Buffy and Bella had tried sparring again yesterday — with Bella still riding the wave of the Slayer-creation ritual she'd crashed, and therefore actually a match for Buffy's strength, she'd won easily, several times. Kiki, though, had been more of a challenge for her. The little Slayer had decided that she wanted to get in on the fun after watching the two older girls going at it for a few rounds, bouncing adorably on her toes and demanding Bella play with _her_ in the odd, half-spoken, half-signed language they'd come up with between the two of them. Willow didn't think there had actually been a _winner_ in their play-fight, despite both of them going at it so viciously Willow was surprised neither was seriously _hurt_. (Though they had both taken some nasty cuts on their arms and legs — practice weapons were for little children, apparently.)

Kennedy and Buffy had both suggested breaking it up at different points, but neither of them wanted to get close enough to actually do anything about the girls snarling and snapping like feral animals and trying to claw each other's eyes out, and Mira wasn't concerned. She'd just rolled her eyes and said something about Bella always getting what she wanted. They'd ended up wrestling until they were just lying on the ground in a complicated tangle of limbs, mutually pinned and completely exhausted — Kiki looked like she might be very frustrated if she weren't so very tired, and Bella had been grinning like a lunatic.

They obviously hadn't held it against each other, since the little Slayer was still acting like Shadow Girl's shadow — she'd grown more confident since that first night, when everything from the lights to the shower to the mob of Potentials packed into the living room to await Buffy's (and Bella and Mira's) return had been terrifying, foreign and potentially dangerous, but she still preferred to stick close to Bella. She was, after all, the only one of them who could understand her. (And Willow still had no idea how she was doing that. "I'm just really good at languages, don't overthink it, Rosenberg," was _not_ an explanation.)

"Kiki's fading," the demon announced, which seemed like a hell of a thing to say right in front of the girl. "The magic of the spirit I brought back with me is fading, Kiki can feel this world becoming more like a dream to her, so I'm sure she'll be becoming noticeably less _present_ soon, too."

"Um, okay?" she said, mostly because she felt like she should say something, but had no idea _what_. What did that even _mean_ , "becoming less present"?

"So, I had an idea, and I wanted to know if you could do it before I brought it up to Zee and Buffy."

"Um...what is it?" she asked, with a premonition that it wasn't going to be anything _good_ , not if it had something to do with Kiki "fading" and Bella didn't know if it was possible.

"Remember how Buffy suggested, before we found Kiki, that you might be able to disrupt the spell maintaining her form, or something?"

"...Yes..."

"Do you think you could do that, but instead of letting the memories she's based on dissipate, give them to someone else instead?"

"Er... Maybe? But..." Her eyes flitted involuntarily over to the little Slayer, watching their conversation with rapt attention. Did she... "How much of this does Kiki understand?"

"She knows we're talking about her, and a way for her to live on through another Slayer. The spirit she subsumed didn't die with her, it was passed on to the other Slayers. It's grown weaker somehow, over the millennia, maybe just from being assimilated and mastered several thousand times. _Domesticated_. Kind of sad, really. But we can feel it in Buffy, that she's our sister, too, even if she doesn't want to be. I think if we bind Kiki's memories to that spirit, it'll be stronger, give Buffy a better understanding of who and what she is, what her role is and why she exists. Basically what she was supposed to get out of the ritual in the first place, but rejected because _ooh, scary demon possession_ , what if it makes me _less human_ — which is fucking stupid, don't get me started, but anyway, what do you think? Possible? Not possible? Completely mad but technically there's no reason it shouldn't work?"

"Uh, yeah. That last one, I guess?" At least, she couldn't immediately think of any reason it was _completely impossible_.

Bella grinned. "Brill. So, you get started on that, and while you figure out the _how_ , we'll go get Zee to talk Buffy into actually _doing_ it."

She bounced off before Willow could articulate all the reasons this seemed like a _really bad idea_ , and all the ways it could go wrong, Kiki flitting after her with a tiny smile, like maybe she understood a lot more than Willow thought.

Like maybe she didn't want to die, or "dissipate" or whatever.

Though— Did she even understand the concept of death? From the way Bella acted, Willow wasn't entirely certain _she_ did. Not as an imminent threat or a thing that could happen to _her_ , instead of just something that happened to her enemies when they _lost_.

And what would that really mean, anyway, binding her memories to someone else? How would you even _do_ that? Obviously it should be possible, the way it was possible for Bella to take a demon into herself, or for Willow to drink in all of the dark magic from Giles's books when she'd...kind of lost herself, but those were things _they_ had done, not things other people had done _for_ them. Disrupting the spell that simulated the girl's life should be easy enough, there were plenty of un-making rituals, but if she did that it would just be like killing her a little sooner, especially if the saving-her-memories part didn't _work_ , so she definitely couldn't do it — couldn't _bring_ herself to do it — if she didn't _know_ that it _was_ going to work.

And even if she _did_ , what would it do to Buffy?

"Kiki" was a lot more...social, than Willow would've expected from the First Slayer — she hadn't been at _all_ okay with Buffy having friends, and them helping her deal with Adam. (Though, that was a thought, maybe something like that enjoining spell would work? She guessed she could at least look it up...) This version of her — younger, Willow thought, than the First Slayer they had invoked — wasn't exactly _friendly_ , but she hadn't objected to Buffy's "army", or even to Bella's relationship with Mira. ( _Mira_ didn't much like _Kiki_ , but Willow was pretty sure she was just jealous that the little Slayer had stolen all of her girlfriend's attention the past couple days.) Sure she was kind of...weird, all sharp and unemotional — Mira said she was more like "wilderfolk" (a kind of animal-person, like selkies, but all kinds of animals, not just seals) than a human — but she wasn't nearly as angry or standoffish as Willow might've expected, if Buffy had told her the First Slayer was going to be dropping in for a couple of days.

Still, she wasn't exactly a peppy modern middle-schooler. She was very _intense_. Buffy said the Shadowmen, the shamans who had made her the Slayer, said she was chosen for her fierceness and strength of will, and Bella said that they shouldn't act like she was a child any more than they should act like _Bella_ was — she might not have been a _woman_ when she became the Slayer, like _physically_ , but childhood hadn't really been a _thing_ back then. Not like it was _now_. And life wasn't nearly as safe and easy. The demon girl had given her a dark smirk, then, quoted something about life being nasty, brutish, and short, and if you're going to die young, better live fast, right? (Mira said that was a _quintessentially House of Black outlook on life_...but she wasn't wrong.)

Would giving Buffy Kiki's memories make an impact on her personality, too? She was already so... _stressed_ , dealing with the First, and Chloe's suicide and everything. Could she— Would it really be a good idea to make the "demon spirit" in her stronger? Buffy refused to talk about that part of the whole Slayer adventure thing, refused to acknowledge that she wasn't as human as she liked to think, but Bella had easily admitted that the wraith she'd assimilated, or the memory and magic of it or whatever, was kind of like a little voice at the back of her mind, urging her to kill them, destroy them all — burn Sunnydale to the ground and dance in the ashes... _er, more than usual, I mean_. (Somehow it didn't really _surprise_ Willow that the psychotic little demon had voices in her head telling her to kill people even _before_ being possessed by an actual spirit of death and destruction.)

But if Willow was being honest, Bella had a sort of...discipline, that Buffy didn't. Like Kendra, kind of. (Though obviously not nearly as sheltered as the Jamacian Slayer, so maybe more like Faith, if Faith had Kendra's obsessive work-ethic and resources.) She didn't really seem to be taking the threat of the First as seriously as anyone else, but it was like... Like this was her entire life, and she was totally fine with that, what else would she do if she wasn't studying something or practicing fighting (or _actually fighting_ ) _all the time_ , even when she was supposedly on vacation? (It didn't really surprise her, either, that the little demon was apparently accustomed to resisting the voices telling her to kill people for no reason, enough that adding another one didn't really make a noticeable difference.)

And Kiki had been mostly following Bella's lead since she'd gotten here, Willow thought, that might make it easier to act reasonably normal and not hurt people, but she'd actually _chosen_ to take on the demon in her head, and she'd done it _to protect her people_. She had to've been a good person, and determined enough that once she had gone through the whole ritual thing she probably didn't have much trouble keeping it from influencing her.

Buffy was hanging in there, she'd come a long way in accepting her role as the Slayer over the last... God, had it already been _six years_? And she was at least trying to step up and be the leader they desperately needed, but Joyce dying and then Buffy herself dying and Willow bringing her back, and Giles leaving, and _Tara_ , and then Willow _and_ Giles leaving, and now Giles bringing all the Potentials here, the added responsibility, well...

It was terrible of her, probably made her a bad friend, but Willow couldn't help thinking of that summer Buffy had run away to Los Angeles, trying not to be the Slayer. She still got the feeling sometimes that if she could, if she thought Faith could actually be a _good_ Slayer, Buffy would just leave again. Let someone else take care of saving the world for once.

And they were all so close to just _breaking_ —

Would it really be a good idea to add to all that, giving Buffy another thing to worry about, force her to work even harder to make it through the day?

Of course, that was assuming it _would_ make that sort of impression. It could be that Kiki's memories would be a good influence on Buffy, make her stronger, give her more understanding, like Bella had suggested. Or maybe it wouldn't make much of a difference at all, just be like, things she knew, or...

She needed more information, she decided, before she could really say whether this sounded like a good idea or not. But she guessed she could try to come up with a way to do it anyway, in the meanwhile. Even if they didn't end up giving the girl's memories to _Buffy_ , they could maybe use one of the Potentials — Kennedy had that same Kendra-like discipline as Bella, she'd probably be able to resist the demon just fine, especially since its legacy in her, or whatever, wasn't "awake" yet. (Hopefully it wouldn't _ever_ be, but...) Though, that did kind of raise the question of why Bella didn't just let Kiki's memories live on through _herself_...

"Hey, Giles?"

"Oh! Willow? What is it?" the Watcher asked, looking up distractedly from the book he'd been immersed in. He looked so out of place, sitting here in the garage under a bare lightbulb, books and notes stacked on an old blue card-table — his new 'study', since there was so little quiet and space in the house these days. Willow had offered to let him use her room, but he'd insisted he didn't want to disturb her, working late or whatever. (She was pretty sure he just didn't like the idea of leaving her unsupervised around that much magic. He still didn't trust her not to...fall back into the deep end of the crazy-pool, as Xander would put it.)

"Do you still have a copy of that enjoining spell we used to stop Adam? I thought I had some notes on it, but I must've gotten rid of them when I did the whole magic-purge thing." She knew she had, actually. Or rather, Buffy had. She'd searched the house, found almost everything Willow had squirrelled away against an emergency, including her old Book of Shadows, the journal she'd kept since she'd started really getting into the Craft.

Giles's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Dawnie looked up as well, a hint of tension in the curiosity on her face. (Willow would be lying if she said it didn't hurt, knowing Dawn was scared of her, even more than Kennedy.) "Why do you ask, Willow?"

"Um, Bella was asking me about something that reminded me of it. Um. Something about Kiki kind of...fading away? And if we might be able to save her, or part of her, somehow."

Giles sighed. "Willow, do you really think that's a good idea?"

"Well, no, not _really_ , I don't know, I don't know enough yet, about what would...what it would even _mean_ , really, giving her memories to someone else. But it can't hurt to show Bella the spell, see if that's the sort of thing she's talking about. Um. Can it?"

"You know that's not my true concern, Willow. I don't like the way you've been reaching more deeply into your magic lately. You could have killed Kennedy and Mirabella attempting to re-open that portal, and it was clear that you were beginning to lose yourself—"

"Yeah, but I _didn't_ — as soon as Xander interrupted, I lost my hold on it, and it let me go. I don't— I know better than to get too _invested_ in anyone again, like– like with Tara." Kennedy was great, but you could only really have one first love, right? Willow didn't think she'd ever find as deep a connection as she'd had with Tara again, but...but maybe that was a good thing. She _knew_ it was all the negative emotions from her death — her _murder_ — that had let Willow hold _that much_ magic _that long_ , and she'd _wanted_ to get lost in it, to _not be Willow_ , anymore. She hadn't been able to _be_ Willow without Tara. That wasn't going to happen again, especially if she didn't get too close to anyone... "But we _need_ to do everything we can to– to resist this– this _Hot Shit_ , and Bella thinks maybe if we give Kiki's memories to Buffy, that would be kind of like getting all the history and understanding she _should've_ gotten from the shadow-portal ritual thing, and it can't hurt to look into it, can it?"

Giles's troubled frown compressed into a stern line of disapproval, but before he could tell her (again) that it was a bad idea for her to get too deep into magic again, Dawn tossed an old, purple-covered, spiral-bound notebook on the table between them.

Her old journal.

"You— You kept it?" Dawn nodded. "Did you— You didn't _read_ it, did you?" There were some truly embarrassing, diary-like entries in there along with the notes on spells and demons and all the weird, supernatural drama that'd been going on in their lives.

The girl sniggered slightly. "Don't worry, I skipped over the parts about you and Oz...mostly."

Willow felt herself go red. "I didn't know myself very well back then," she said, trying not to sound too defensive about that. It was perfectly okay and normal to take some time to figure out sex things, especially when you kind of just _expected_ yourself to be straight. (Stupid heteronormativity...)

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don't think the enjoining spell could do something like that. I mean, _maybe_ , since they're both Slayers? But maybe if you sort of combined it with some elements from... Giles, where did that one book go? It was in Latin, and like, really thick, with a green cover."

She found the book, and the spell she was talking about, still talking about the different ideas and elements in them, and how they could maybe be combined (theoretically, if this passage meant what she thought), but Willow barely heard her, suddenly overwhelmed by how...Giles-ish Dawn had gotten while Willow had been wrapped up with her own _stuff_. And how grown up. She wasn't a little kid anymore, when had _that_ happened? Had she and Buffy been that grown up at sixteen? She didn't think they had been. Heck, most days, she _still_ didn't feel that grown up...

"Willow? He _llo_ , Earth to Willow?"

"Huh— What? Sorry, Dawnie, just, y'know, checked out for a second there."

"Yeah, we noticed," Buffy said, behind her. "Could you — all of you — please tell Bella that she's insane, of course you can't just go moving memories into other people's heads?"

"Everyone knows I'm insane, that's not news. And why not? Didn't I hear something about you and that other Slayer, the one in jail, switching bodies one time?" Yeah, she had. Willow had mentioned it in passing, when Bella questioned her later about why, exactly, they couldn't go break Faith out of prison, if she was really as bad as Xander said. Willow didn't actually know how she'd done it, but the spell Dawn had just been looking up, she was pretty sure that, or something very like it, was what Amy's mom had used to steal her body, back in high school. It probably _could_ be done. "This would be _far_ less difficult than that. I mean, I think. Theoretically."

"Yeah," Dawn jumped in, maybe a little too eagerly. " _I_ think it would work. I mean, it wouldn't be a body _swap_ , and the whole point is Kiki's not going to have a body soon, right? So, we'd have to change some things so we didn't just replace you with her and have _you_ fade away or whatever instead, but there was that enjoining spell thing, right, so... Oh...kay, you're all kinda staring at me, now, and it's freaking me out," she trailed off nervously.

They were, yes. Or, well, Willow, Buffy, and Giles were staring at her. Bella was reading the body-swapping spell over her shoulder — arm, the demon really was _tiny_ — Mira's eyes were flicking between the rest of them with that knowing little smile she almost always wore, and Kiki was poking at the gardening tools in the corner, playing with a hand rake like it might be some sort of clawing weapon. Understandable, really, Willow guessed — her people wouldn't have had anything like that, she didn't think, and most of the small hand-tools they'd shown her so far _were_ weapons.

"You're like, really into this stuff, aren't you?" Buffy said. "How did I not know that?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you never talk to me unless it's to nag me about my homework?"

"Speaking of which, why aren't you at—"

Mira cleared her throat, cutting Buffy off. "Nice try, Buffy, but you don't get to change the subject _that_ easily — especially as it seems such a spell _is_ possible, at least theoretically. Though it sounds as though there may not be a single spell designed to do what you want it to do, Bella. And far be it from me to lecture you on how to conduct a war, but risking the psychological integrity of your strongest asset in the run-up to the key battle seems a bit, well. _Risky_."

"Yeah, but Magic likes Willow. I don't think she even really _needs_ spells, if she knows what she wants it to do." Willow felt her eyes grow _very_ wide at that. _She_ thought she needed spells, the idea of _not_ needing them was kind of _terrifying_. "And Kiki knows things about where the Slayer comes from, and how this whole war between humans and magical entities started. Things I think Buffy needs to know."

"And you can't just tell me, why? And did you miss the _damaging my psychological integrity_ objection? Because maybe you don't care about being a crazy person, but—"

"Oh, piss off, even _I_ can tell you're already a battle-shy _mess_ , 'psychologically speaking'."

"I am _not!"_

"You're scared and you second-guess yourself and you stress too much, and you're not nearly ruthless enough. Kiki would probably be a good influence on you. Besides, you told Zee you thought you should've accepted the wraith, in the shadowscape." Buffy glared at the other demon. "This is the closest you're going to get to a do-over on that. And, bonus, Kiki's already done the hard part of subsuming _it_. I fail to see the basis of your objections."

"The basis of _my_ objection is that Buffy _is_ already in a rather... _brittle_ place, Bella, and she has far less experience than you or I in integrating magically acquired knowledge and experiences with her own lived experiences. She's still attempting to reconcile the revelation that the Slayer powers are 'demonic' in origin with her understanding of herself. If she _wanted_ to subsume Kiki's memories, I wouldn't necessarily be so concerned as to object, but she clearly doesn't feel ready to do so. _No means no_ , Bella."

Bella let out a frustrated groan. "Fine, then. What about one of the Potentials? Kennedy would be good — _she_ knows who she is, _and_ she has the temperament to be a good warrior, even if she's a shite _soldier_."

"And she's still getting over her scare with Willow, opening the portal." Willow cringed a bit at that. "She's hardly likely to embrace being at the centre of another ritual so soon after that."

"Even if it could kind of sort of make her a real Slayer?"

" _Yes_ , Bella."

Willow wasn't so sure about that — Kennedy _did_ really want to be a Slayer, thought she could do the job better than Buffy. Willow didn't know about _that_ , Buffy had been through an awful lot since she'd been activated, and like she'd told Dawn, experience counted for a _lot_ , but she could at _least_ do a better job than _Faith_.

"Would it make her a real Slayer, though?" Giles asked. "My understanding is that she would simply be acquiring... _Kiki's_ memories, not her powers, or the actual demon — didn't you say the echo _you_ carry is already fading as well?"

"Well, yeah, but the Potentials all have like, their own echo of it, or...more like a seed, or maybe a runner or something, because it's still part of the whole. It's _dormant_ , but Kiki's memories might be enough to wake it up, you know?"

"Wait. Does that mean you can identify Potentials?" Willow asked, because she was...pretty sure that kind of followed directly from what she was saying.

"Mm, yeah, obviously? I mean, we kind of have to already be in the same room, but if they're close enough the wraith's spirit kind of _resonates_ with them. I'm sure Buffy could do it too, if she were even the _least_ bit self-aware."

"Hey! Why'm I getting the impression you have some sort of a problem with me today?"

"Because I _do_ ," Bella snapped back, stepping into Buffy's space to glare up at her from about six inches away. "This is a _great_ idea, and you're refusing to do it and cursing our entire side in the collective foot for _no good reason_ , and—"

"Bella, stop," Mira said firmly, causing her girlfriend to round on her instead.

" _No_! Why don't you make _her_ stop?! _She's_ the one being a _brat_ when—"

"She's not being a _brat_ , Bella, she's being _human_. And _you_ are being _unreasonable_. You can't just _force_ people to do things they're scared of because _you_ think they're good ideas."

"I am _not_ being unreasonable, Zee!"

"Yes, you are. You've grown attached to Kiki, and you're afraid of losing her."

Bella's eyes flashed with blue-violet fire. "I'm not _afraid_ , just letting her go would just be _wrong_. It would _hurt_ , and not in a fun way! And it's not even about _that_ , I _knew_ she wasn't going to last, if it were _just_ about her, I would keep her for myself! This is _objectively_ an opportunity that we should be taking advantage of! Letting it pass us by because the fucking humans are too fucking fragile to do what's necessary is just _stupid_ , okay, and—"

"Bella, _enough_." Mira laid a hand on one of Bella's cheeks, leaned down until their noses were almost touching, blocking her entire field of vision. "What's the worst-case scenario, here? You take Kiki in instead of giving her to Buffy or one of the potentials, and we sacrifice whatever advantage we _might_ otherwise gain?"

"Even I can't win a war if we give up _literally every advantage_ , Zee!"

"But you don't _know_ that there _would_ be an advantage, I _know_ you don't know enough about this world to do the arithmancy on that. _Let it go_ , Bee."

"But, _Zee_ , you _don't understand_..."

"Oh, now you're just being insulting."

"I don't know enough about this world to do the arithmancy, but I _also_ don't know enough about this world to put together the pieces! I don't have the _perspective_ , okay? This could be _really important_ , the key to understanding how this whole war started, and what the _fuck_ happened to the magic in this world, and—"

"I'll do it." All eyes turned to Dawn. "I'll do it," she repeated. "I might not be a Potential, but we're not talking fighting stuff, now, right? This is research, magical theory, ancient book-reading stuff. And I can do that. I'm _good_ at that."

" _No_ ," Buffy said firmly. "That's not a good idea, Dawn."

"Why _not_ , Buffy? Because you just don't want me to do anything useful _ever_?"

" _Psychological integrity_ , Dawn! _Being risked!_ I don't want you taking that risk! What if– What if something goes _wrong_ , or— You said it yourself, there's no spell for this, Willow would just be making it up as she went along, and—"

"And I trust her to get it right—" _Really?_ "—and _I_ don't want _you_ having to go out and fight demons and vampires and be responsible for stopping the apocalypse _again_ , but, what do you know? Sometimes there are more important things than whether your sister wants you risking your life, aren't there!"

Buffy looked like Dawn had just stabbed her in the heart, but that didn't mean she was done. "I'm the adult, here, Dawn! It's my _job_ to risk my life to protect _you_! _Not_ the other way around!"

"It was your job to protect _Mom_ when you were my age!"

" _Why_ do you think I didn't _tell_ Mom about all this when I was your age?! She would've told me exactly what I'm telling you! It's _not your responsibility_ , Dawn!"

Dawn scowled at her. "You're such a _hypocrite_ , Buffy! You would have done it anyway, because you were the only one who _could!"_

"Well, you're not the only person who can do this!"

"Looks like I'm the only one volunteering, though!"

"Fine! I'll do it!"

Dawn froze. "That wasn't what I meant, Buffy."

"Well, too bad! I'm doing it! Willow, figure it out, let me know when you're ready!"

She turned to storm back into the house, only to find Mira in the way. "No."

"What? Zee, this is good! Buffy was the one who was supposed to get this info in the first place, remember?"

"Yes, and _Buffy_ turned it _down_. And even if Dawn has managed to inadvertently goad her into it, that doesn't mean she's any better prepared to take on Kiki's memories _now_ than she was fifteen minutes ago. I'm still saying _no_."

" _You_ don't get to say yes or no!" Buffy snapped, stepping toward her aggressively.

Mira just grinned at her fury. (Angry Buffy wasn't nearly as scary as angry Bella.) "Of course I do, Buffy, darling. My job here is to make sure that you, your team, don't self-destruct due to the additional pressures Bella's interference in your war is applying to you all. Which means ensuring that you _personally_ don't self-destruct. And I fancy Willow might agree with me on this point."

 _What?!_ Buffy rounded on Willow, who _really_ hadn't been expecting that! She _hated_ being put on the spot! "Do you?"

"Well, um...kind of...? I mean, Buff, you've got a lot on your plate already, and research and history and stuff has never really been your _thing_ , and..."

"And you think she's right. You think I can't handle it. You'd rather put _Dawn_ in danger—"

 _No, of_ course _not—_ How could she even _think_ that?!

"Hey! You're out of line!" _Kennedy?_ It was! She'd come around the side of the house to the outside door, stalking over to stand beside Willow, with all the support Willow _definitely_ didn't deserve after _sucking the life out of her_ just a couple days ago, but— _I think I love her_... Her heart did the little flippy thing, a silly smile sneaking its way onto her face as Kennedy slipped an arm around her shoulders. "I don't even know what you're talking about, but Willow would _never_ put Dawn in danger!"

"You're new here, and you're _wrong_."

Willow felt tears pricking at her eyes, because it was true, she _had_ put Dawn in danger, she'd put _everyone_ in danger, but she'd also— There was the night with Rack and the car accident, and—

"No, Buffy," Dawn said, her tone absolutely _frigid_. "She's _not_ wrong. You _are_ out of line. This isn't your choice to make, or Mira's, or anyone's but mine...and maybe Kiki's. Does she get a say in all this? Because I think she likes me better than you."

That...might be true. Willow hadn't seen the little Slayer much around anyone but Bella, but she was always kind of tense when they were in the same room as Buffy. Which maybe didn't make much sense, because the little Slayer was definitely scarier than Buffy, but maybe it was one of those instinct things, like a dog's fur standing up because there was another dog in the room she didn't know. _Wary_.

There was a loud slap of leather on plastic out of nowhere, Giles smacking his book down onto the table with his one good hand, breaking the tense stand-off between the sisters. "Girls, that is _enough_. Buffy, let's go for a walk."

"Giles..."

"Now, Buffy," he said firmly, hitting the clicker to raise the big door. "I think we could all use a bit of air."

Buffy looked around at each of them in turn before, apparently seeing no allies among them, turning on her heel and stalking down the driveway, leaving Giles to follow. Willow was pretty sure she wasn't the only one letting out a sigh of relief as the tension in the air dissolved with her exit.

"Willow, start working on the spell," Dawn said, sounding uncannily like Buffy. "We're on a fixed timeline here, right? I'm sure Giles will talk her around, so we should be ready for when they get back."


	23. Investiture

"Are you sure about this, Dawnie?" Xander asked, hovering anxiously, as Dawn tried to focus on her cereal and not the fact that, _no_ , she _wasn't_ sure about this, she had _no idea_ how taking on Kiki's memories or the echo of the demonic power that apparently was the Slayer inheritance, or whatever, might affect her. She didn't even know how it would affect a _normal_ person, and she wasn't entirely certain that she _was_ a normal person.

She _thought_ she was. She didn't _remember_ being the Key, really — the occasional weird dream, maybe, but that could just be eating too much sugar before bed — and she was _pretty sure_ her blood couldn't open portals or anything anymore. Though she had to admit, Willow — or Magic-Speaking-Through-Willow, when she'd gone all dark and terrifying — threatening to turn her back into a ball of energy did kind of make her wonder. After all, she hadn't imagined that she was anything other than a normal human girl before Glorificus had kidnapped her, either.

But she _was_ sure that it was better for _her_ to do this than _Buffy_.

She was sure that this was something she _could_ do just as well as anyone else here. Maybe _better_. She was _good_ at puzzles and research and figuring out what they needed to do to kill monsters or solve problems, and she wasn't _nearly_ as... _stressed_ , as Buffy. Or as dangerous. Buffy already had the weight of the world on her shoulders and if, worst case scenario, this demon-assimilation thing meant there was going to be a voice in the back of her mind trying to talk her into killing people, well...either she'd have to put even _more_ effort into resisting it, on top of _everything else_ , or she wouldn't be able to — and in _that_ case, it might be a good idea to make sure the person going bat-shit-murderous _wasn't_ also the person most capable of killing them all? (Dawn didn't _want_ that to be a consideration, she hadn't brought it up to anyone else, but...that didn't mean it wasn't.)

"Yes, Xander. I'm sure."

"You'd better not be trying to talk her out of doing this, Harris," Bella said, appearing out of nowhere (not literally, just in the doorway, without Dawn hearing her approach), Kiki following her as usual.

"I'm not. I'm just— Maybe in _your_ universe, it's totally cool to expect a teenage girl to go around taking in stray memories and trying to save the world, but here it's not."

Dawn snorted. "And the Slayer is...?"

"You know what I mean, Dawn. We shouldn't push you into this if you don't want to. Besides, I don't think it's cool that the Slayer gets slapped with her death-sentence destiny either."

"You're not," she said, squeezing the wrist of the hand he laid on her shoulder, all protective and (annoyingly) big-brotherly. "I volunteered. And Mira said I could."

Thankfully, she'd waited until _after_ Giles had gotten Buffy out of there to assure the rest of them that Dawn was far better suited, psychologically speaking, to attempting to reconcile Kiki's memories with her own. Not _entirely_ because her own memories from before a couple of years ago were completely fake anyway, either — she'd apparently meant it when she said she considered Dawn one of the most mature and resilient people in the household. And she'd been more than willing to tell the rest of them that straight out, regardless of Dawn's embarrassment and the fact that it might easily have damaged her own credibility, telling them their collective baby sister, helpless little needs-to-be-kept-safe Dawnie, was capable of taking care of herself — and moreover, actually contributing to supporting the rest of the gang, here.

It _hadn't_ , of course, the demon girl had a way of sounding _much_ more mature and authoritative than any of the rest of them — well, maybe not Anya or Giles, but she was more... _engaged_ than Anya, and more assertive about taking a leadership role than Giles — even though she was just Dawn's age, and had only even been in their universe for a few _days_. Talking to Buffy as though _Mira_ was the calm, reasonable adult, and _Buffy_ , their actual (nominal) leader, was the angry, rebellious teenager wanting to do something stupid, might have had something to do with it, just like she had done with Kennedy and the Potentials. But Dawn couldn't say she didn't like her more for it anyway, taking her side — actually _believing_ in her, in the idea that she could actually _do_ something.

Xander scowled. "I don't like her."

"Just because she got you to admit you think you're all completely fucked?" Bella asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

" _No_ , because she's too charming. Perfect. Easy to trust. Screams 'trap'."

The shadow demon chuckled. "On the one hand, I know _exactly_ what you mean. On the other, that's...kind of just how she deals with new people, making them like her. Even if some of them are totally suspicious of the fact that they like her despite their better judgment. She knows that happens, she could avoid it if she were really trying to seduce you all. But it would be more suspicious if none of you were suspicious of how perfect and charming and easy to trust she is, so."

Xander just stared at her for a long moment, before shaking his head as though to clear it. "I feel like that should have made sense, but it doesn't. Who even _thinks_ like that?"

"Zee, obviously. Anyway, Willow's ready, and Buffy and Giles are back, so..." She quirked her head toward the back door.

"Ah...you go ahead, I'm going to run to the bathroom, first."

The others had already gathered to form an anxious audience of sorts by the time Dawn caught up. Rather than go through the back door and give any of them another chance to try to talk her out of it on her way to Willow and Kiki (and Bella, kneeling beside them in the middle of the lawn, explaining what they were doing to Kiki), she circled around the house.

Buffy looked like she'd been crying, and Giles was clearly nearly as upset. Spike was going to be _pissed_ he hadn't even known about this, but it seemed better not to wake him up and tell him, especially since he couldn't even be here. They'd _considered_ doing it inside, in the basement or even the living room, but Bella had insisted that it had to be in the daylight under the open sky, for...reasons that only vaguely made sense, but did kind of sort of sound right. About the Slayer being forged in darkness to fight in darkness, and this ritual being more about knowledge and understanding and openness and _illuminating_. A gift, not a theft. _Uniting_ , not _subduing_.

As soon as they started, she knew the little shadow demon was right. Sitting cross-legged, knee to knee with the First Slayer — unarmed for the first time Dawn had ever seen — "holding hands" in a totally not actually _holding_ way, her right palm resting on Kiki's left, and Kiki's on hers, to make a tiny little circle, a circuit of two, inside the larger circle Willow had cast around the four of them.

Bella wasn't actually supposed to be _doing_ anything. Dawn suspected she was just there in case Willow needed to go all psychic vampire on someone again. (Apparently it would have been less traumatic for her to have stolen energy from the shadow demon than Kennedy or Mira, both of whom still seemed a little wary of getting too close to her — though Dawn wasn't exactly complaining that _Kennedy_ was still less than entirely comfortable around Willow.) So Willow knelt on Dawn's right, all serious and formal and _this is high magic_ , while Bella lounged on Kiki's left, leaning back on her palms all casual-like. Her only nod to the gravity of the moment was that she had actually shut up for once. (Seriously, that girl could _talk_.)

On Bella's advice, Willow had decided _not_ to bother translating the spell she'd come up with into Latin or Greek, instead speaking plainly to the open air, calling on Hecate to witness their rite, asking her — or Magic, or whoever might be listening, Dawn guessed — to "hold in keeping" Kiki's memories, her soul, all that she _was_ , and solemnly declaring that they were unbinding the shadows and memories which were the First Slayer from her fragile, mortal form.

Bella moved, then. Dawn thought the others (Willow and Kiki) must have known she was going to, since Kiki didn't flinch, just _sat there_ and let her plunge a knife into her back, but no one had told _Dawn_ she was going to — that she was going to have to watch Kiki _actually die_. It was only Willow's hand on her shoulder, calm and reassuring, that stopped her from scrambling out of the circle entirely as she instinctively shied away from the murderous little demon. She didn't think anyone _else_ had known, either, since there was an incoherent uproar from the crowd on the porch.

" _Calm! Down!"_ she heard Mira shout over the lot of them. "It's part of the— Don't you _dare_ break that circle, Alexander! Buffy, _stop!"_

She did. They both did. But only because in the few brief seconds it took for them to cross the space between the porch and the ritual, instead of collapsing to the ground all bloody and _dead_ Kiki's body dissolved into a cloud of blue-white sparks, a swirling mist of energy, coalescing into a sphere more or less where her head had been, before.

"Go with grace," the shadow demon said, perhaps more seriously than Dawn had heard her say anything. She added a few words in what had, presumably, been the First Slayer's own language — her name, maybe? — and cast one of those electric violet balls of "soulfire" into the sphere of sparks, which swirled around it, growing brighter, almost too bright to look at. Bella certainly seemed uncomfortable, sinking back away from it with a pained frown. After a moment she actually stood and stepped backward out of the circle, giving Willow a nod — no idea what that was supposed to mean. And then...

Things went very _weird_ , then, as Willow continued to speak, now about unity and memories and life and accepting the Other as part of Oneself (which somehow sounded like they should be capitalized). The world, Dawn's perception of it, seemed to narrow down to just the circle — just herself and Kiki's soul and Willow's voice, really, urging them to become one, _mind and heart and spirit enjoined_.

She felt... _bigger_ than herself, floaty and oddly detached, less aware of the hardness of the ground and the grass pricking at her bare legs, and far _more_ aware of the ball of deadly, destructive energy and chaotic magic, harnessed by the will of a girl who had died _thousands_ of years ago, by her determination to protect her people from the Dark which closed in all around them, and more, her determination to _avenge_ them — her memories of the people she had lost to its monsters — her _family_ — her fear and her anger — her _rage_ — taking her over, coming to the shamans when their last hope had failed, demanding that they give _her_ the power they had tried so long to bend to their will, to gift to the warriors and hunters of the village, the men who were supposed to have protected them.

The men who had tried and failed, who had died horrible, grotesque deaths as they fought to conquer the power, the _darkness_ the shamans had trapped and they _lost_.

The men the captive monster itself remembered as little more than more malleable prisons than the vessel in which the shamans had trapped it, confident in their own strength, their own abilities, but their souls rejecting its presence, leaving it no choice save to fight and win and make their pathetic human bodies its own, or _die_.

_The girl was different, glaring defiance at the shamans as they tried to dissuade her, revealing the fate of all those who had come before her. Revealing the defeat they felt, as yet another would-be champion failed them._ I am not afraid to die a monster, _she had told them. And they had bowed to her fierceness and her courage, binding her and entrapping her, lest the demon take her over as it had all the others — they, their_ bodies _, had not died as a consequence of its attempts to improve their weak, human forms, but the shamans' refusal to allow it to escape._

_And when they had compelled it to enter her, the soul of the monster found righteous rage and pain and fear, and a desire to protect, as the men had had, but also a desire to_ kill _, a determination to_ destroy _the Darkness and its creatures, the way they were so eager to destroy humanity and_ life _. Not to simply delay them or push them back, but to_ end _them, to end the threat of the demons' attacks, to win this world for her people and their children, once and for all. A certainty that it was_ possible _to destroy the Dark that none of the others, defeated in their hearts even before the demon's soul began to corrupt and destroy them, had had._

_The simple, implacable_ hatred _of an innocent child for the evil that had taken those she loved from her, and a woman's will to see it through, to_ kill them all _, regardless of the price to herself. Unwavering, even in the face of the pain it caused her, transforming her body to suit itself, stronger, quicker, sharp-clawed and dangerous. She didn't fight it._ Good, make me dangerous, I'll use these claws to tear the life from your brethren all the better!

_It stopped._

_That hatred, that yearning to_ destroy...that _it could understand._ That _it could speak to. And it had. And they'd found common ground. Forged an agreement between them, a pact. That she would devote her life to death and destruction, and it would let her decide who and where and when they killed. And when the sun rose and she climbed out of the pit in which the men had held her, standing fierce and proud and unbroken in the light, the demon had smiled to see their horror at the realisation of their goal, the creation of an unstoppable predator, a killer, a_ Slayer _..._

And beyond that, new memories, the modern world as the construct — the girl and the demon together, memories used to create it as they, not quite yet one creature, had been only a month after their pact was established — had experienced it over the past few days: _strange and wondrous and in many ways luxurious — rich with decoration and strange, soft fabrics and magical weapons, carved from materials they had never seen, and houses with waterfalls inside them — but filled with unknown dangers, massive not-creatures like the one which had trampled them in their initial flight; with_ people _? so soft and helpless and fearful, like_ rabbits _, pale and weak and wrong-looking, most of them, and so_ many _of them, this village stretching on forever in every direction with its foreign sounds and its unnatural lights burning through the night and smells and darkness lurking only in pockets and desolate corners, driven underground and fearful, much as the humans had been in the girl's time._

_They hadn't liked it much, this world of humans — a world in which she (_ they _) had won? — so very different from their own. The girl hadn't liked the way they looked at her, like the people of her village had looked at her, when she returned to them with claws and eyes to see in the dark, and an inclination to_ do _rather than to_ speak _. The demon hadn't liked the yellow-haired one who had carried its soul, or the way it had grown thin and worn and tired and_ weak _over the many,_ many _human lifetimes between then and now, and neither of them had liked the chittering pack of children in whom its seeds had taken root, that it might flee to if its tired, yellow-haired host gave in to her exhaustion and defeat. They hadn't liked the food, hunted or gathered from animals and plants they'd never seen — at home_ or _here, there were no animals_ anywhere _, save for the occasional dog or...tiny cat. Birds. Tree-rodents. But no herd animals, none a village this size could_ live _off of (did they eat_ other humans _? the meat didn't taste like the demon recalled human flesh tasting, but they didn't_ look _like humans, either...) and no gardens anywhere they had seen. They hadn't liked that the cost of keeping the darkness away was that they couldn't see the stars at night, and that there was no quiet, ever, and no...anything_ other _than the endless village._

_They_ had _liked the demon warrior-girl. The one who had carried not the demon's soul or one of its seeds, but an echo of it, like the construct felt itself to be an echo in this world. She was just as strange and wrong-looking as the rest of them, but she...made sense, in a way nothing else had since they had crawled out of that pit, reborn as something...not quite human, anymore. But not quite_ not _human, either. She had shown them, somehow, when she'd first used magic to fix their arm, that she wasn't quite human, either. (Though they'd already known that. Humans didn't do magic like that.) That she had her own darkness in her soul. That the warrior-girl knew what it was to_ hate _, to need to hurt, to destroy, to_ fight _...and to protect. The children the warrior-girl would die a monster for weren't here, they hadn't seen them outside of the warrior-girl's memories, but they were_ somewhere _, alive and safe._

_She had shown them that they could trust her, that she could show them how to be around humans again, even humans as strange as the ones in this foreign world. She had played with them as though she and they were both leopard kits rather than human children, scrapping in the dirt and practicing killing each other, and she'd taken them on a hunt, shown them how to kill the strange, weak night-creatures of this world, the left-behind stragglers of demon-kind. Too easy, not enough, they'd needed_ more _, but the yellow-haired host had stopped them running off to find_ better _prey, and then the warrior-girl had stopped them killing_ her _, fighting them_ not _in play until they had grudgingly admitted that they could not tear her throat out in a direct fight no matter how hard they tried, they could respect that, and perhaps they were too tired and had too many broken bones to find anyone else to kill tonight either, and yes, they did want the warrior-girl to fix them, and fine, they could go back, no matter how unsatisfying a hunt it had been, if only because fast-healing made them sleepy, and_ hungry _, and they couldn't eat anything that_ exploded into dust _when they killed it. (The straggler-demons were_ terrible _prey.)_

_And when the world around them had begun to seem like a dream, she had shown them what was happening to them, used magic to explain in ideas that their constructed false-life was waning, and that this was a way for their story to live on when they became just magic again (like the demon before_ they _, separately, were_ them _, together), through the girl who wasn't a shaman or a warrior or a potential host, but just a girl (like the girl before she met the demon)._

And beyond _those_ memories were the way the demon remembered the world before, when it had had its own body — _it was free and killed where it liked, powerful and graceful and_ deadly _, in a world where humans were nothing more than another pesky, short-lived mortal creature, weak and awkward and_ clearly _prey. Not even_ dangerous _prey, though this particular consciousness did like them — they had more brain than most animals, and brain was delicious._ (Dawn had _not_ needed to know that.) _A world of violence and instinct and wildness and_ magic—

A _hell-world_ , she realised. This world...had been a hell-world, once. But... _how_...?

The answer to _that_ was too big. Dawn collapsed back in on herself before she could see even the whole shape of it, her consciousness suddenly snapping back to her own body, along with her newly-acquired memories and a screaming migraine. Darkness, when it closed in around her a second or two later, was a welcome relief.


	24. So, what exactly is a Slayer?

"And dare I ask what a _Slayer_ is?" Tom asked, raising an eyebrow at the group assembled in the lobby.

On the one hand, it had taken a surprisingly short time for him to find a glamoury enchantment in their little library to simulate his usual illusory features. On the other, it had taken _them_ only days to find and enchant a handful of amulets which guarded their minds against his casual intrusions. He was quite certain that he _could_ push past them, if necessary, but not without drawing attention to himself. Which meant he couldn't pull the answers to any question he posed directly from their immediate thoughts.

It was rather annoying.

The Pylian had even offered one to Lily, but the girl had refused, on the grounds that she didn't actually have any secrets to protect from him, and _Tom tells me things_. Which the locals had found mildly discomfiting, as they did most things Lily said. Honestly, given how frequently she unnerved them, it was frankly astonishing she'd managed to so comprehensively charm them in the hours he'd spent charming Luz. ("Cordelia the Devourer" had accepted that as a name in lieu of _Most Exalted Bringer of Peace and Enlightenment_ when he insisted that her chosen moniker was really more of a _title_.) She'd even managed to bring Connor around to some degree, asking him about the dimension in which he had been raised — Quor'toth, a dark hellscape of a world which sounded very much like the sort of place he and Bella would enjoy and Mimi would hate — and the man who had raised him there. They had bonded over their respective adoptive parents lying to them about who they were for the majority of their lives to this point, and their real fathers being weird and brooding and mysterious. (Tom objected to Lily's characterisation of him as _brooding_. Brooding was for dramatic, emotionally conflicted bastards, not dramatic bastards who accepted and embraced the conflicting aspects of their personalities.)

She was currently sitting on a desk scattered with ancient books and futuristic (modern) technology, kicking her heels and annoying the team's arithmancer (physicist) with incessant questions about everything from Miss Burkle's family home in Texas to _why is the sky blue_ and how interdimensional portals — the primary subject of Miss Burkle's research — _worked_. If he hadn't had an eldritch abomination to corrupt, Tom might very well have become thoroughly distracted by exploring the theoretical implications discussed therein, because it _was_ a _fascinating_ topic.

But he did.

He'd spent the _vast_ majority of his time the past three days secreted away in Luz's quarters, discussing her goals and engaging in debates which, if not _quite_ circular, were certainly _spiralling_. He did think he was getting somewhere, if not very quickly, nor in a very linear fashion. He hadn't even attempted to bring up the subject of altering her methods (yet), but he had managed to establish a certain degree of rapport, and was making some progress in sussing out her actual _plan_.

Luz was, of course, furious with him for having interrupted it, but he was also the closest thing she had to a sympathetic confidant at the moment. He wouldn't necessarily go so far as to say she'd _never_ had a sympathetic ear to vent to, but given that she was at odds with anyone she could reasonably consider a _peer_ , it was entirely possible that she hadn't had a confidant who wasn't entirely subservient to her in aeons. Tom, of course, would be nearly as helpless as anyone else before her true glory, but trapped in the human vessel as she was, he had little to fear from her. And she _did_ admit that they had certain motivations in common. He was well on his way, he thought, to reaching a point where he had gained enough respect to be considered a sort of advisor to her divine self. One more familiar with the nature of humans, which she _had_ observed extensively over the course of centuries, but would never truly _know_ in the same way he, as a human himself, obviously did.

She had, as he understood it, already pacified one dimension, a world with insectoid sentients, but he'd also gathered that she considered it...not a failure. Beings such as she did not _fail_. But certainly an imperfect success. A trial run. Earth, _humanity_ , was more complex. More capable of understanding her message, yes, but less biddable. More likely to react poorly to any hint that their will was about to be subverted for their own good. It followed that the takeover of the planet must happen swiftly, then, giving more distant populations no time to hear of the phenomenon sweeping the globe, no chance to attempt to resist — or kill themselves in fear of their fate, as some of her insectoid worshippers' brethren had done, terrified by the twisted rumours which preceded her advance.

The Lady had mentioned that Luz could enthrall with a single word or glance, and she had herself implied that her powers did not require direct interaction in order to attune a simple, mortal mind to her own. That they were all, in their secret heart of hearts, already longing for her, the slightest suggestion enough to win them over. She did not need to meet them in person for their hearts to seek her out, if they knew of her and were not afraid of the utopia she represented. Which said to Tom that she was likely planning on projecting her image and message to the world, somehow, rather than physically travelling to every corner of the Earth.

It also suggested that she did _not_ plan to remain bound to Cordelia Chase indefinitely, but he had yet to learn how she intended to embody herself properly.

She _would_ tell him — it was only a matter of time and gaining her trust, allowing her to believe that _she_ had gained _his_ trust. His _devotion_.

(If she had been on speaking terms with any other deities, one of them surely would have told her that charming and _convincing_ as he might be, Tom Riddle's only true devotion was to himself. Alas, she was not.)

Isolated as she had become in the wake of the revelation of her true nature to Cordelia's friends and the loss of her obedient servant — she was also annoyed that Tom had killed him, and especially so _horribly_ — with Tom as her only visitor (per his orders, enforced with compulsions before they found the scheme for those annoying amulets), she was surprisingly...malleable. It was, of course, possible — even likely — that she was attempting to play him too, but he suspected that he had more experience seducing someone with words alone. Especially someone like himself. Eternal mystical beings did not, for the most part, find themselves in positions wherein it was necessary to _convince_ mortals to obey them. Not when a single word or glance was sufficient to put even the most resistant in thrall.

Tom, on the other hand, had spent the past five years cultivating Mirabella Zabini.

The primary reason he'd come to this meeting was so that he could return to Luz seething with irritation over their pulling him away from her for some trivial matter, hardly worthy of his attention, and _certainly_ not worthy of _hers_. He _did_ want to know what was going on, but he could always steal the memories off Lily later, dissect them at his leisure (while "basking in Luz's divine presence" — the more conceited deities did like it when he poured it on thick).

"She's, ah..." Angel hesitated. "Wesley? You got this one?"

The Brit rolled his eyes. "You know the prophecy as well as I do, Angel. _Into every generation, there is a chosen one. One girl in all the world. She alone will wield the strength and skill to stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. To stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. She is the Slayer._

"She's mystically empowered by a demonic spirit inherited through some mechanism we — the Watchers' Council, that is, though I haven't been associated with them for years and they're all dead now anyway — have never managed to uncover. It's not a bloodline or any environmental factor we could test. Our best guess is that the Powers That Be choose her, or possibly that They choose certain candidates, somehow marking them as Potential Slayers who might be chosen by the Spirit of the Slayer when the current Slayer dies.

"There are two of them at the moment, actually. Buffy Summers is the senior of the two, the one who actually carries out the duties of the Slayer. She...died briefly, several years ago — long enough for the next Slayer to be activated, but her heart was able to be restarted through medical intervention. Faith Lehane is the junior Slayer. She has been in prison here in Los Angeles for the past three years."

"Why's she in prison if she's one of the good guys?"

"She killed someone, honey," the arithmancer explained. "A human someone. It was an accident, but..."

"She's atoning." Angel sounded as though he rather envied her that. Interesting. "Or she _was_. She broke out last night. Cops were just here questioning me because I was supposedly the last person to visit her. Two days ago."

Angel's son frowned at him. "But you were here all day."

"I'm aware of that, Connor. Unfortunately, I have no proof, and they have a guard placing me, or someone who looks a hell of a lot like me, talking to Faith during visiting hours. I think they believed I genuinely had no idea what they were talking about — some of Kate's old friends on the force, they know enough to believe someone could've been impersonating me — but they don't want me to leave town."

Miss Burkle frowned at him. "Do they know what they talked about?"

"No. But I'm guessing whatever it was, wasn't good."

"Something to do with Cordelia, do you think? Or something else?"

"If I knew, Wes, I would've said," Angel snapped. "Everything I know, you know. Which is that we have a rogue Slayer on the loose. I've already called Sunnydale, just in case, but we need to be on high alert here, too. If you see her, don't try to capture her," he told Tom sternly. "She may look harmless, but she could kick your ass six ways to Sunday."

Tom sincerely doubted that. He was aware that he looked relatively helpless in terms of his ability to physically defend himself — Milo had managed to noticeably bruise his neck in the split-second before Tom had fully taken control of his body, that had been a bit too close for comfort — but there were _very_ few beings he would hesitate to use mind magic against in a fight. As Bella would say, that was just cheating. "What does she look like?" he had to ask, since he couldn't just steal the image from them. (Those amulets were really _very_ irksome.)

The arithmancer poked at her computer for a moment, then lifted and turned it so that he could see the image displayed. A brunette in her late teens in a mostly-empty flat somewhere, wearing dark make-up and posing for a photo with a jovial, middle-aged man. She looked a little embarrassed, but happy. He was the very picture of a proud father, though Tom suspected they were unrelated, given the differences in their appearance. "This is the last picture we have of her before she went to jail. It's from Nineteen Ninety-Nine, so she's a little older, now."

Four years could make a relatively notable difference in one's appearance at that age, but, "Very well. If any adorable brunettes attempt to ambush me in dark alleys, I shall let them have their way with me, rather than attempt to capture them for questioning by your team of intrepid investigators."

"You'd do well to take this seriously, Riddle," Wyndam-Pryce said gravely. "The Slayer isn't just some _adorable brunette_. She's a dangerous killer. You underestimate her at your peril."

"Believe me, I'm more than familiar with the dangers of underestimating unintimidating teenage girls. Fortunately, I have no interest in attempting to capture her. If that's all, I _was_ in the middle of a conversation when Mister Gunn interrupted with your summons."

"How's that going, by the way?" Angel was still less than convinced that it was entirely safe for Tom to spend any extended period in Luz's presence. Tom hadn't seen fit to inform the locals of his ploy. Being unfamiliar with their skills at deception, he feared they might give him away in the boredom-spurred discussions the various individuals guarding her routinely held outside her door. Lorne and Gunn were undoubtedly discussing his apparent (not entirely feigned) fascination with her at this very moment, which was all to the good — their speculation would reinforce her own impression of his growing admiration and adoration for her.

"Well enough," he hedged, deliberately cagily.

"Did she tell you what her plan is, yet?"

"Not yet, Miss Burkle. I believe she requires certain...assurances of my loyalty first, you might say."

 _What does that mean?_ his daughter wondered. She was slightly more aware of Tom's actual position on the matter, given her presence when he'd outlined his plan for Mesektet. But she knew better than to discuss the subject with the locals, who against all odds seemed to have largely reverted to treating her like any other small child — albeit one prone to making discomfiting comments, and continually shadowed by an undead cat. (She really was coming along quite well in learning to animate that thing while allowing it some semblance of autonomy. By the time his business here was concluded, it might actually pass for a real cat.)

_It means she wants to believe I'm on her side, but she needs me to prove it to her in some way first._

_So...how do you do that?_

_At this point? I spend time with her. I talk to her. I fawn over her, and await whatever task she eventually assigns to test my loyalty. Probably killing you,_ he added.

The child knew he was joking, if only because _Seffie would be angry with you._

He'd barely mentioned the girl to Luz. She'd asked about her, but seemed to accept his claim that he'd only just met her, and that her existence was, in fact, one of several issues he intended to take up with Bellatrix once he finally tracked her down. Mentioning his actual reasons for coming here less and less as their conversations progressed was one of the ways in which he was leading Luz to believe he was falling deeper into her sphere of influence, regardless of the lack of magic in her enthrallment of him. Bringing Lily into the conversation might easily deflect him from his growing fascination with the Power and its goal.

 _Yes, she's much more likely to ask me to kill Angel or Wyndam-Pryce. They pose a far more direct threat to her._ Because they were the only two of the team who, in Tom's estimation, were prepared to kill her if they could neither exorcise nor contain her.

"Assurances," Wyndam-Pryce echoed. "What sort of assurances are we talking about, precisely?"

"That is yet to be determined," Tom said firmly, dismissing his apparent concern with borderline rudeness. "If there's nothing else...?"

Angel gave a frustrated sigh. "No, that's it. You can go."

 _Lovely_.


	25. Pull the Trigger

Spike was trying very hard to ignore the voice whispering at the back of his mind, urging him to take the witches before him to task for risking Dawn's sanity, maybe even her life, shoving the creepy little First Slayer's memories into her head. It wasn't working very well.

He couldn't even blame Hot Shite either. So far as he could tell, this wasn't it, just his own reaction to— They hadn't even told him! Just let him sleep right through it, and then after, all nonchalant, oh by the way, the First Slayer's gone now. Lives in Dawnie's head, kind of. Theoretically, at least. She'd still been asleep when Willow and Mira had seen fit to inform him of their collective descent into insanity, and all she'd said on the subject since waking was that everything was still jumbled, she'd had some very odd dreams, she needed to sort it all out, still.

She still sounded like herself, mostly. Just, less talkative. More watchful. Like the little First Slayer. And more...

Spike hadn't liked the First Slayer. She was creepy, and not in the same way Shadow Girl was creepy — he didn't actually think Shadow Girl would stake him just for being a vampire. As though he was, by default, a threat to be removed. Or...more because she saw him as a threat, and she was scared. Edgy, like. He could tell the whole situation had been overwhelming to her, she'd obviously disliked the Potentials, and found everything about the modern world strange and potentially dangerous — not that he could blame her, there. He still found the modern world strange, sometimes. It'd changed a lot, even in just the past century. The less annoying, peripheral members of the household — Dawn, Giles, Willow, and Andrew — hadn't seemed to bother her one way or the other, but she'd been downright jumpy around Buffy, Nikki Wood's boy, and Spike himself. Like she could tell they were dangerous.

Though, if it was just she knew they were dangerous, had to be on guard around them, Spike had no idea how or why she'd taken such a shine to Shadow Girl. Buffy had told him about their little "incident" on patrol, the one where the little Slayer tried to kill her because she hadn't been willing to let her just run off into the night. Shadow Girl had stopped her — obviously she was more experienced than the little Slayer, and she could use magic to fight. She'd beaten her. Brutally. And the little Slayer had, if anything, only been drawn closer to her. Maybe because Shadow Girl clearly could have killed her, but hadn't? That might, he guessed, count for some kind of basis for trust.

In any case, the little Slayer had been edgy around him. Jumpy. Like if he made a wrong, unexpected move around her, she might just stake him because she thought he was going to try something. He'd made a point of being elsewhere, just staying out of her way, like, as much as possible. Though Shadow Girl likewise had a penchant for lurking in dark corners avoiding the vapid madness which was a house full of teenage girls — said it reminded her of being back at her magic boarding school — not to mention Mira had taken to seeking out his company when she had nowhere else to be. Shadow Girl didn't seem to mind that he was shagging her girlfriend (Mira said the soulless little demon wasn't much for jealousy, or sex, for that matter) or that he hadn't been able to stop himself biting her again, but she had occasionally come looking for her with the little Slayer in tow.

So they'd run into each other a handful of times. Enough for Spike to recognise that same edginess she'd had with him in Dawn. No matter how much they claimed — how much Dawn claimed — she was fine, she was still all there, she just needed time to work through the new memories, he could tell it had affected her. She'd gone back to translating the Slayer Grimoire, mostly avoiding the rest of them.

And everyone else had just– just moved on.

Shadow Girl had spent most of the past two days with Buffy, training — the Slayer strength she'd somehow picked up in the ritual she'd crashed had worn off by now, but she was still far better trained than the Slayer — and holed up with the Little Bit, presumably helping her sort out some of the weirder parts of her new memories. They weren't just the First Slayer's, the girl who had become her, he meant, but the demon's, too.

Buffy, to be fair, obviously hadn't forgotten what they'd done to Dawn, she was still giving her concerned looks out of the corners of her eyes, but Dawn had made it very clear (to both of them, and Giles, and Xander, and everyone else who'd said anything) that she was fine and they could all piss off. So Buffy had thrown herself into training, determined to take advantage of the little demon's experience, improve her own technique when it came to dealing with opponents she couldn't just lay out with a single punch. Or whom she could lay out with a single punch, if she could actually connect — Shadow Girl knew how dangerous it would be to let her get in even a single strike, so when she wasn't trying to draw blood to win a practice fight, she was far less likely to let Buffy get anywhere close to hitting her.

Mira had largely been spending her days playing head-shrinking games with the Potentials, dealing with the fall-out from Chloe's suicide and trying to teach them how to ignore Hot Shite a little better. The two of them had had a falling out of sorts. They had been getting somewhere, he'd thought, as actual friends, in the wake of the little Slayer's appearance. She'd...wanted someone to talk to about Willow stealing energy from her to open that portal, and Shadow Girl's sudden obsession with her "new pet", as Mira had referred to the edgy, dangerous construct. Listening seemed to be the least he could do. After all, she'd listened to his life story, hadn't she? But then when he'd found out about them shoving Kiki's memories into Dawn's head he'd said something about Dawn being too young to make that kind of decision (shouted it, more like), and Mira had gotten all offended, as though he thought she was too young to make decisions about what to do with her mind and body — not what he'd meant, but they were the same age, he tended to forget that — and even after he'd calmed down and apologised (grudgingly, he still didn't think she'd had any right to go convincing Dawn to do a thing like that), the closeness that had grown between them the past couple of days was just...gone.

They were still shagging (if Mirabella Zabini really were a succubus, Spike would probably be dead by now, the girl was bloody insatiable), and she'd let him bite her a third time last night, but it was all...unsatisfyingly physical. Meeting each other's needs, sure, but... Twee as it might sound (and he was well aware it did, even just inside his own head), he'd thought they'd had...more of a connection than that.

And Willow... Apparently Willow had been working on a spell for Spike, now. She'd enlisted Mira to help ambush him with the idea. Number Three had followed the two of them downstairs too, glaring at the back of Mira's head like she thought the demon was going to turn around and start snogging her girlfriend or something. Not likely, he thought. Obviously she would, if she had something to gain by it (she had been startlingly honest about her "mercenary tendencies" as she put it), but according to Mira herself, "If I'm just in it for the sex, I actually prefer men. I suppose you might say Bella's an exception, of sorts. She's...I need her. And I'm afraid I'm rather terrible at expressing genuine affection without making it sexual, so."

"Run that by me again?" Spike said, beating back the urge to demand to know where the red-headed witch got off, suggesting they do some other big, magical working, when they still didn't know all the effects of the last one — or the one before that, for that matter! The Potentials seemed fine, so far, but it'd only been a few days since they'd done their blood-magic hoodoo. And Hot Shite had been remarkably quiet since talking Chloe into suicide. (Probably meant it was up to something, but none of them had any idea what that something might be.) So who knew if it'd actually worked.

Willow frowned as though he hadn't been paying attention to her — which he had, it just sounded completely mad, the idea of her somehow...getting into his head and helping him figure out and undermine the trigger Hot Shite had somehow burrowed into his much-abused brain or soul or whatever. "Why can't Mira do it?"

The demon gave him a warm smile. "That's very flattering, Liam, but I'm...really the last person you want poking around in your head."

"You're really not. Dunno if you've not noticed, luv, but Red's a bloody innocent. You, at least, already know all the terrible things I've done." Willow and her girlfriend looked to each other all surprised, like he shouldn't've been as easily won-over as all that, despite her charming everyone else in the household to tell her all their biggest fears, too. "Seeing it would be worse, yeah, but I'm thinking you'd be a bit less shocked—"

"Not because of that," Mira interrupted. "I'm... Remember I told you about my aunt, how mind magic works in my universe?"

"...Yes?..." And? He knew she'd had bad experiences with people rummaging about in her mind, sure, but this was hardly the same thing. She'd be doing the rummaging.

"Yes, well. The thing is... I can't do it. Mind magic. I mean, I can, obviously. I just shouldn't. Because, er... I tend to drive people insane, when I try. Make them like me. Like Adara made an impression on me, I make an impression on them, but I'm...not exactly what you might call mentally stable. Not— I've spent the better part of my life learning how to compensate for the damage the so-called Healers inflicted on my sense of self. Other people haven't."

"A house full of feral, hysterical teenagers," Willow's Girlfriend said, which made absolutely no sense to Spike.

"What the hell are you talking about, Number Three?"

"That's what Bella said would happen if she and Mira got in on our little circle thing the other day. I'm guessing this is what she meant?"

Mira nodded. "I imagine Bella's influence would magnify the effect, make one more likely to act, but yes. And I suspect the demonic influence behind your vampirism would likely have a similar effect. I will grant you I'm less easily shocked than Willow. I have more experience with hypnosis and mesmerism, and I'm almost certainly a better candidate to walk you through the process of isolating the compulsion, but we can work on that after you know what it is, exactly. And undermining your self-image and self-control while attempting to do so sounds like a recipe for disaster to me."

"But... But this is Willow we're talking about. She's all...soft-hearted and nice, and—"

"Hey!" she said sharply. "Are you forgetting I tried to destroy the world, once? I know you like to think you're a big bad, Spike, but—"

"You tried to commit suicide and take the rest of us with you. Not quite the same thing as murdering people for fun, Red. You killed Warren Meers right horrible, I'll give you that—" She finched at his frankness, making his point. "—but he was a single, despicable person who'd gone and killed the love of your life. Accidentally. Worse than killing her on purpose, if you ask me. He deserved it. The parts of my life, people I've killed... They didn't. Do you remember Dru? Darla? Angelus? I was just as bad as they were." Well, maybe not as bad as Angelus — the things he'd done to Dru were just...beyond. But. "We're talking torture, here, Red. Rape. Turning entire villages into bloodbaths because we could. You. Don't. Want. To. Go. There. You really don't."

"That doesn't matter," she said coldly. "I know you're a vampire, Spike. I know you're not a good person, you haven't been a good person. And if we don't do this, Hot Shit can just show up and push you back into the crazy pool whenever she wants, so it doesn't matter that I'm probably going to see you be a vampire for real. Or remembering being a vampire for real, or whatever."

"Liam," Mira said softly, lying a hand on his shoulder and interrupting his glaring contest with the witch. "This is Willow we're talking about. She's soft-hearted and kind, and she'll forgive you for whatever she sees in your past. You know she will." Warm, dark eyes stared up into his own, heavy with sincerity. "I can't make you do this, Liam, but I think you should. I think it will help, understanding yourself. Not just with the trigger, but... You're never going to reconcile yourself with your past if you refuse to examine it."

"I'm not— This isn't about me not wanting to— I know what I am, Mira! I know the evil in my soul, okay, I—"

"And you hate it." She smiled. "Self-reflection is the key to understanding oneself, and understanding the first step in acceptance. In making peace with yourself, if not actually forgiving the darkness in your soul for the crimes of your past. In putting those choices behind you and embracing your new path with conviction and deliberate purpose, rather than disgust and desperation."

Willow's Girlfriend snorted, breaking in with a sarcastic fake-cough. "Bullshit."

"Kennedy!" Willow hissed.

"What? I'm just saying, embracing your new path with conviction and purpose — who actually talks like that? Melodramatic con artists and shrinks, that's who."

"And nineteenth-century poets, of course," Mira said, winking at him before turning to smirk at the girl. "Though I'm afraid you'll have to try a bit harder than that if you intend to insult me, Kennedy, darling. Manipulation is an art — one I happen to be very good at — and the object of this particular confidence game is to remove a knight from the influence of a certain intangible bitch. I was under the impression you approved of that goal."

Willow's Girlfriend shut up, mouth snapping into a closed scowl with an audible click. Spike tried not to squirm, being called a knight. He might be trying to be a better person, but he had no illusions about being as noble and chivalrous as Mira seemed to credit him. Being a coward and refusing to face his past to figure out this trigger bullshit certainly wasn't knightly, was it?

"Alright." All eyes turned back to him. "If— You're right, this isn't about me, or Willow, or whatever. If this is what it's going to take to get that thing out of my head for good, fine. So be it. What do you need me to do?"

Both Willow and Number Three looked slightly taken aback by his vehemence, but Mira gave him another smile, this one with a hint of pride around the edges.

"Oh, well, um," Willow began. "We should...probably sit? The idea is basically, well... Astral projection, kind of? Projecting my consciousness into yours in— Well, first Mira's going to put you into a kind of waking dream state, so she can guide us toward the– the trigger, whatever it is, and... I'm not really sure, but I think it's supposed to be like— Have you read the Inferno?"

Of course he'd read the Divine bloody Comedy. It was a bloody classic. "So you're Virgil, taking me on some exploration of the hellscape that is my own sins?" He supposed that did make a sort of sense. The Ninth Circle was for traitors, and he had betrayed them, betrayed everything good in the world, listening to Hot Shite, allowing himself to become that monster again.

Mira giggled. "No, actually. You're Virgil — it's your mind, I should think that would make you by far the more suited of the two of you to act as a guide. And that's really the extent of the metaphor, it's not really based on the Nine Circles of Hell. Willow will accompany you as you re-live the memories which follow from my initial prompt, through which the two of you will seek out and confront the demon which is the vampire in you, looking for any external influence which might override your conscious, human conscience and compel you to act in accordance with its wishes. If you've ever smoked opium, I suspect it might be a bit like that."

"I have been hypnotised before." Truth be told, mesmerism had been more popular than opium dens when he was young, he wasn't that old. Morphine and heroin had been bloody everywhere, of course, but smoking it hadn't quite been the thing anymore. And Drusilla had very much enjoyed the whole spiritualist movement, they'd taken in a show before dinner on more than one occasion. Wait, "Have you smoked opium?" Because it occurred belatedly that that was a weird comparison for her to make.

She shrugged. "Once or twice. Not my cup of tea. But that's not the point. So, you have some idea what to expect. You'd both better lie down, rather than sit, Willow."

"Er..." Willow eyed the crash-pad he occasionally used when he stayed here during the day uncertainly.

He sighed. Might as well be a gentleman. "I'll take the floor."

"Oh, um. That's okay. I mean, we're both dressed and—"

"I insist," he said, trying not to sound too annoyed with her. From the look on Number Three's face, he didn't quite manage it, but fuck it. He was going to make her far more uncomfortable wandering through his memories than he would be lying on the floor.

"Right," Mira said, all business-like and firm. "Then we'll put you under first, Liam, so your consciousness won't reject her projection." She sat down in the middle of the floor, patting a spot beside herself. "Your head in my lap, if you please."

"One would think," he murmured, stretching out on the cold concrete and attempting to look casual about it, "that my being unconscious would rather defeat the purpose of having my head in your lap."

She gave him a naughty smirk. "One would. And yet," she gave a dramatic sigh. "Later. We have to do this, first."

"Ah, yes, this would be the part where you fascinate me, I suppose?"

"I was under the impression you were already rather fascinated with me," she quipped back, apparently quite unable to help herself.

Willow gave them an exasperated groan. "Mira... Spike..."

"What?" Spike said, with as much false innocence as he could muster. "I just meant, has she got some sparkly bauble or other for me to stare at?"

"Mmm, no. Sparkly baubles are for rank novices with no true talent for the subject," she informed him, the slightest sing-song emphasis in her tone. Reminded him of Dru. "Just look into my eyes and listen to my voice, corny as that sounds...

"If I were in my world, I'd use magic, you know, emphasise the ebb and flow of it around you, the pulse of the Universe. But since we're not, we can make do with mine. You can hear it. I know you can. The beating of my heart. Surrounding you." One hot little hand rested on his neck, so still he could feel it, blood rushing through her veins, the heat of her thumb against the spot where his carotid would have beat when he was alive, almost as though the faint pulse there, the tiniest variation in pressure and warmth, was his.

He could hear the other two as well, practically holding their collective breath as the world narrowed around them, watching, from the outside.

"Moving you, my blood in your veins. Drawing you toward me like the tide, ebbing and flowing like breath, like life... Like we're the ocean and the sky and the entire world... In the entire world, there's only just the two of us, breathing together, one creature."

She paused, but only for a single heartbeat. "Waves rising and falling, breath and words and the earth and the moon dancing together, rocking each other like making love, blood pounding, surrounding you and suffusing you, one creature, one life, one mind and body, and it's right."

Another beat, echoing through him.

"Divine."

Beat.

"A perfect union."

Beat.

"And the only thing that matters is my voice in your ear and my breath rocking you to sleep and the beating of my heart in your veins, and you relax, because there's only the two of us in the world— We are the world," she corrected herself, the pace of her words picking up, as though racing toward some sort of climax. "We are everything and nothing, dancing in the Void, one body and one mind like the earth and the moon, separate and indivisible and inevitable."

Another beat of sudden, echoing silence.

"And we relax."

He did, falling into the familiar feeling of his limbs growing unusually heavy, as though he might sink into the floor, or into her... Sinking into the warm, safe feeling of trust...

"And we are, alone in the Void."

Yes... This was...right. Just...being together... Being together.

"And we sleep."

His eyes were already closed, but he felt his mind sinking into sleep, like his body was sinking into the floor, completely relaxed for the first time in...decades, maybe.

"And we dream..."

And that was about the last thing he was consciously aware of until the hot, bright image of Willow Rosenberg appeared in the darkness of his mind, drawing his attention to his own existence, defined only in opposition to the Other. As soon as she appeared, walking, confused and scared, out of the nothingness into the dark, emotions echoing in the calm, a scene took form around them.

A memory.

A memory of confusion and fear, of defining himself. Of Drusilla, eyes sparkling with madness staring deeply into his own and gasping in ecstasy as her blood slipped between his lips and down his throat — she'd bitten him the very first time they'd met, spoken afterward of what she was with poetry and fae grace, and of what could be, what they could be, together, but this was the first time he had taken her blood into him — as desperation took root in him and she laughed.

"Now, now, my naughty boy. That's quite enough now. No, no more from mummy," she chided him, prising his lips from her wrist with iron fingers. "It's time to die, my love, and time to wake up. Time to be reborn."

"What– What's happening?" he asked, deliriously, the room spinning. "I'm...I'm cold. What's happening to me, my love? What...?"

She pouted at him. "You're dying. That's what humans do, William."

"They... What?"

"You're dying, and asking silly questions, and taking far too long about it." She frowned at him, leaning in where he'd fallen back on the settee to run a cold finger over his cheek — her hands were always cold. And then there were cold fingers around his neck, cutting off his air, his pulse, his own hands too cold, too heavy to lift, to stop her, to...to live.

She was right, he was dying.

He was afraid and confused and dying, because that was what humans did. Everything went dark, just...stopped—

And then, in the next moment, the desperation in him flared, a fire igniting in his still, frozen heart. There were lips pressed against his own, the weight of a human body resting upon his own still form— No. Not a human body. There was no warmth to her, either, no breath, no blood in her veins, no life. She wasn't what he needed. She was useless.

The scene wavered, shifted, suddenly becoming third-person rather than first, as he recalled what happened next.

Willow Rosenberg, looking terribly out of place in Drusilla's boudoire in her jeans and jumper and general modernity, watched, shocked, as he threw his sire's body off of him. She gasped again as the corner of the coffee table dug into the stays at her back — Spike hadn't noticed that, at the time, how close he'd come to accidentally staking her ten seconds after rising himself. He was far more concerned with the little girl curled up in the corner by the door, terrified — an urchin Dru had snatched off the street and spent the evening making much of, washing her and feeding her, dressing her up in a tiny, proper gown, playing mummy and happy families in a way he'd found...endearing. Odd, yes. More than a little mad, but...endearing.

His first meal.

She reached for the handle again as he stalked nearer, but it was still locked, the key still tucked down the front of Drusilla's bodice with a naughty smirk. "Now you can't leave, my love. Not until I've had what I want from you, at least..."

She scrambled to her feet, rushing around to a better angle to watch. "Do it, my William! Do it! Make it quick!"

He'd barely heard her.

"You...may want to look away," he warned the horrified witch.

It hadn't been quick. He'd barely heard Dru's advice, and had had even less idea what he was doing, anyway. His teeth came by instinct, his face shifting — he wouldn't notice that until...after — but he hadn't known where to strike. He'd torn into the junction between neck and shoulder, her breast pressed against him, shrieking as he dug into her, seeking that precious, precious warmth, he needed it...

He'd lost himself in it. Now, from here, he could see Drusilla laughing and clapping, delighted with herself and her pet's transformation. When he'd come back to himself, he'd been lying on the settee with his head in her lap as she petted his bloody hair — how the hell had he gotten blood in his hair? — and cooing over him as she so liked to do.

"Is this... Is this what we're here to see?" Willow asked him stiffly, watching as Dru quietly explained to him what he was now, in much less poetic terms than she'd used in telling him what she was, before.

A rather religious explanation, he recalled, and heavily metaphorical, as most of her explanations tended to be. Drusilla had been a postulant before Angelus had sired her. She didn't like to talk about the convent, but she had still been a godly woman after her transformation...after a fashion. There had been rather a lot of talk about forsaking God, and giving himself wholeheartedly over to the demonic half of his soul. About vampires as the children of the devil, doing his good work in this world, spreading terror and misery and ruin... He'd lapped it up, all too eager to follow his beloved into hell, if that was what she wanted of him. It was, after all, very romantic, converting to be with one's lady fair — making the ultimate sacrifice, emperilling one's mortal soul to be with her.

"Haven't the foggiest." He was rather leaning toward no. "Though... This is the first time I learned about the demon," he said, as the scene shifted around them, becoming his mother's parlor. He cringed.

"What?"

"This– That, I mean, before, was... Mira said we were supposed to look for the demon in my soul, right? That was the first time I heard about it. That vampires are humans...with the souls of demons. Corrupted by the souls of demons. Our human souls are gone, forfeit. Cursed."

"Then...what's this?" the girl asked, giving the younger version of himself and Dru canoodling on the sofa a disapproving look. "If I wanted to watch you flirt with a crazy person, we could've just stayed with Mira..."

"Oh, come off it, Mira's great. And far less mad than Drusilla." Though it was a bit more obvious, looking back on these memories now, that they did act uncannily similar sometimes. "This..." He sighed as his mother came into the room, interrupting Dru's attempt to tactfully explain that there was no way in hell she wanted Mummy Dearest to come terrorise Europe with them. "...is me...awakening that demon in another. My mum," he nodded at her, even as his younger self explained, with a disgusting degree of youthful, optimistic enthusiasm, that he could save her — he couldn't, he hadn't, but—

"You...turned your mother."

"Yes, Rosenberg," he snapped, trying not to sound too defensive about it. "She was dying. Consumption. Horrible way to go, choking on your own blood. I...thought I could save her."

The expression on her face was absolutely unreadable. "That's...actually kinda sweet, Spike."

"Piss off." From here, it was clear that his mother hadn't wanted him to turn her, that he'd only done it out of...out of selfishness. Because he'd wanted her with him, forever.

Of course, he'd only been a vampire for about a week by then, hadn't had the foggiest idea what he was doing. He'd almost drunk her dry before Dru interrupted.

"You're doing it wrong, my pet! You're killing her."

He pulled back, startled, holding his collapsing mother's frail form upright. "I thought — you said I died, that that's what humans do!"

"You did, and they do. But you have to give her your blood first, there's not enough magic here for her to wake up if you don't."

"Oh. Shite!" He carried her to the sofa, nicking a vein on his own wrist with one of his own teeth, ignoring Dru prattling on about how brilliant it was for him to become his own mother's father, a perfect, broken circle, dancing alone to music only she could hear. "Mother? Mother! You need to— Drink, mother!"

He'd thought she had swallowed, but he couldn't be sure (She had.) and she was so close to death already, when her heart stopped, he'd thought she was gone. "I— Did she—"

"Die? Yes. Of course, my sweet, silly boy."

"But... She's going to wake up, isn't she? Isn't she?" he demanded, turning furiously on his lover.

She startled, giving him a shy, delighted grin. "Ooh, now that's a different side to our William, isn't it, love?"

"Drusilla! Is. She. Going. To live?!"

She shrugged, infuriatingly nonchalant about it. "Probably. We could ask Grandmother. My grandmother, your great-grandmother. I've only ever turned you, but she might know." She grinned. "Yes, we should do that. And you can meet my family, too! They're going to love you!"

"Er...meet her family?" the witch repeated, apparently stunned.

"Angelus and Darla. They were Dru's family, by then." Angelus, of course, had slaughtered her human family, driven her mad before siring her. "Most of us don't bring the weird, incestuous, familial angle into it quite the same way, but, well."

"Right. Drusilla. Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs."

He grimaced — wondering where she was now, and whether she'd forgiven him for offering to stake her for Buffy. Probably not.

The scene shifted awkwardly around them, blurring as Young William tucked his dead mother into bed, hoping against hope that she wasn't permanently dead, and then as Dru led him skipping off to the abandoned church Angelus and Darla had taken as their lair — or rather, the extensive catacombs beneath it. The company of dry bones was a small price to pay for a guarantee of true darkness during the day.

Suffice to say, Drusilla's "family" had not loved him. Darla was thoroughly exasperated with Dru, and Angelus thought there was something wrong with William, with his ridiculous concern for his mother's death or un-death, or whatever.

Eventually, though, Darla had confirmed that there was a chance she wasn't actually dead dead.

"Think, Drusilla, dear: have you ever met an old vampire? Elderly, I mean."

"Ah...no?"

"No. Because we are reborn at the peak of our lives. The older a human is when they're turned, the longer it takes for their body to be remade and awaken."

"You won't be bringing her with us, though," Angelus had said firmly. "No idea where you found this one, Dru, but he's ditching his mummy, or we're ditching him."

"What? No! Daddy, he's mine!"

Angelus raised an eyebrow. "And you actually want your mother-in-law joining our merry little band?"

"Well, no." She'd pouted adorably. "But—"

"But nothing, she's not coming with us. Count yourself lucky I'm letting you keep the boy... Honestly, is he soft in the head or something? Turning his dear old mum?"

"Excuse me?!" William objected, finally over his shock and relief that Anne might not be gone forever, at least enough to object to the older vampire calling him an idiot.

"He's not soft in the head, Daddy. He's soft in the heart. He's a poet."

"You sired...a poet."

Drusilla nodded proudly.

"Is he any good?" Darla asked.

"Oh, no, not at all. But he has a lovely, glowing soul. Effulgent."

Willow couldn't quite keep from laughing at that. Spike scowled at her. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, witch."

"Well, I'm sorry, but...effulgent? And she's so serious..." she said, giggling almost too hard to speak.

"Isn't mocking the mentally impaired one of those things you goodie goodies aren't allowed to do?" That sobered her a bit. "It's... I don't know why we're here. I mean, I thought maybe, with Mother... But we don't seem to be focusing on the transformation."

"Well, maybe we are. You're still talking about it, right?"

Well, no, by this point Darla was begging William to read her a poem, even more mockingly than his peers on the night he'd met Dru, and she and Angelus were arguing about the merits of spiritual effulgence in a prospective fledgling. It seemed Spike was right to think that any important details had already passed unnoticed, because the scene shifted again, to him coming home afterward, alone, after his disastrous introduction to Dru's "family" — he and Angelus had...had words. About Mother.

He'd told William to choose, and William, with all the naïve idiocy of his twenty-seven years, had declared that no matter how deeply he loved Dru, he couldn't simply abandon the woman who had raised him — not now, after turning her. So he was already in a rather dejected state when he arrived home. It had warmed his heart to see her walk through that doorway, and then...

"Maybe we shouldn't. We— You don't need to see this," he said firmly, willing the memory to skip past the painful scene which followed.

Nothing happened. Of course it didn't, they might be in his head, but Spike didn't have the faintest bloody clue how this spell worked.

He braced himself as they watched his younger self lay aside his coat, as they heard the first bars of her favourite song, "Early One Morning" — he'd recognise it anywhere, even just from those few notes, she'd sung it so often. The hint of tinniness, there, was due to this particular version being produced by a music box he'd had made for her, rather than her soft, pleasant voice, but even so...

Young William turned to see her standing there, joy and hope blossoming in his heart, and in that instant, the next few moments flashed through Spike's mind, the memory, the hypnotic state, shattering as he fell into a black, demonic rage, no longer thinking, just acting, moving—

His eyes snapped open to catch sight of the startled visage of the precious angel who was Mirabella Zabini hovering only inches from his own, a beautiful, pure thing, he couldn't stand the sight of it.

He understood, in that moment, why Angelus had broken Drusilla as he had, for the sheer joy of transforming something innocent, for the desecration.

William, though, was far less a poet than Angelus when it came to the art of torture and ruin.

He hadn't the patience or presence of mind to break her, but simply to ruin her. He reached up, unthinking, hands moving to close around her throat quicker than the eye could follow — her own only had a split-second to go wide before—

Before he froze.

It was...his body simply stopped working. He flailed against whatever foreign power had taken hold of him, barely conscious of the terrified angel saying, "No, don't."

Though he was conscious of the fact that she didn't sound nearly so frightened as he wanted her to be. She was just— She wasn't even talking to him, he realised, furiously. Impotently. Rage blotted out his vision with red.

"It's fine, Kennedy. Stay back. Check on Willow. Liam, can you hear me?"

His body sat up of its own accord and turned to face her, freeing her to stand.

"Speak, William."

"I can hear you," his traitorous tongue admitted.

"What will you do if I release you, William?" He resisted, but when she made it a command, he failed. "Tell me, William."

"Rip your throat out. Your heart. Bathe in your blood. Consume you."

"Are you sure you don't want me to stake him?"

"Kennedy, kindly keep your peace. If I wanted him staked, I could do it myself — with his hand. Willow? Are you well?"

"Ahh, migraine from hell, but... I'm still me, so."

"Good. Stay back, both of you. Out of his line of sight, please. William, am I speaking to the man or the demon, now? Tell me."

"There is no man. I'm a vampire, you stupid girl. This is what I am!"

"There is. And you are as capable of being him as you are of being this. What was it that made him lose his self-control? Tell me."

"A memory," he spat.

"A memory of what? Tell me."

"A song." From somewhere behind him, a girl's voice said, "His mother. He turned her into a vampire."

The beautiful, dangerous creature who had somehow enslaved him, who was somehow controlling him, his very limbs refusing to obey him over her, raised an eyebrow. "So he's mentioned. Sing it."

He did, glaring furiously at her all the while.

"And why is this song so very significant? Simply because it reminds you of your mother? Tell me."

"She was beautiful and perfect and I ruined her and then I killed her. And her precious son died with her."

She gave him an infuriating little smirk. "Oh, we both know that's not true, don't we?"

She didn't make him speak, so he didn't.

"What will you do if I release you, William? Tell me."

"Run." As far away from her as possible.

"Will you attack any innocent humans? Tell me."

"Of course I will, stupid girl — I thirst!"

"Mmm, I don't think so. Go to sleep, William."

His body laid itself down on the cold floor and despite his rage, his every effort to resist, closed its eyes. The cold dark of unconsciousness closed in moments later.


	26. The Nature of Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doing a double-post today because this scene is super short. I probably should've posted it yesterday, along with the previous one, but I didn't think of it at the time. Oops. So this is chapter 1 of 2 today.

"Go to sleep, William," the demon said, steel in her voice, no hint that she found the stake in Kennedy's hand the least bit threatening, though it would presumably kill her as easily as him.

And honestly, after that? _One wrong move, Zabini..._ She wouldn't even _hesitate_.

"Is... Is he out?" Willow whispered, creeping forward with a hand pressed to her left temple.

"Yes. I can't say for certain — it would be best if I were to be here when he awakens, just in case — but I suspect he will be himself again when he regains consciousness."

"What the hell _was_ that?" Kennedy demanded.

"Liam, or myself?"

" _Both!_ "

The demon sighed. "Obviously you managed to stumble across the trigger, Willow. Well done on that, by the way. Progress. Though I'm not entirely certain what's to be done about it now. I had hoped not to need to play that particular card quite this soon, if ever, and having done so will likely _not_ incline poor Liam to continue to open up to a seemingly sympathetic ear."

"You didn't. Answer. My question," Kennedy bit out, resisting the urge to grab Willow's arm and drag her back, keeping herself between the demon and her mind-controlled vampire, and her very vulnerable girlfriend. If she thought she could get away with it, she'd send Willow back upstairs, but she _definitely_ wouldn't take that well. "What did you _do_ to him?"

"Ah... That was a form of enthrallment. Well, putting him under was simple mesmerism. It's rather counter-intuitive, but it's actually easier to put under someone the more sensitive they are to the world around them, if you can get them to focus on something simple. Like a heartbeat or their breathing. And using blood as a focus for a vampire is practically cheating — they're _always_ aware of it, even if they're not hyper-focused on it."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"Yes, I'm getting there." The demon swallowed hard. "Turning him into my puppet, that was enthrallment. Not mind-control, though there are also forms of mind-control which _are_ called enthrallment, but physical blood magic."

"How does _that_ work?" Willow asked, sounding _far_ too interested in the answer to be taking the danger which was Mirabella Zabini seriously.

The younger girl gave her a rueful sort of smirk. "It doesn't matter, you can't do it."

"Hey, how would you know? Maybe I could..."

"You couldn't. He's been feeding on me, Willow. We've been shagging. Even if you were willing to do either of those things with _any_ vampire... He told me his name, _willingly_. His life story. He _trusted_ me. _Loved_ me. I sacrificed that, his love and trust, the chance to own his heart and soul, to make him my slave in body, instead. His mind was still his own — influenced by his own demons alone, rather. But his body...he took me into himself. My blood runs in his veins, it still carries my power, my will. Prewett may have her hooks in his mind, but his flesh is _mine_."

"And you...you've been planning that..." Willow trailed off, her voice wavering.

"Since the night we arrived? It was the obvious first move." She frowned at their horror and revulsion. "Come now, you didn't _really_ think it a good idea to leave an unstable vampire at the heart of your group, to potentially be manipulated into turning on you at any time, did you?"

"You just— How could you _do_ that, though?" Kennedy found herself asking, almost as fascinated as she was repulsed. It was _horrifying_ that she _could_ do something like that, that the magic existed, but that didn't really _surprise_ her. On the other hand, that she actually _had done it_... Kennedy had never met anyone so... _cold_ , before. Sure she hadn't _trusted_ the demon, but... People said serial killers and psychopaths _looked_ like they had no soul, and there was nothing in Mirabella Zabini's eyes that hinted at that kind of... "Just, _betray_ him? I thought you _liked_ him!"

"I do. The sacrifice wouldn't _mean_ anything if I didn't." She bit her lip, hesitating just for a second. "And I wouldn't have done it if it hadn't become _necessary_. If he hadn't tried to kill me, or anyone else in my presence, he never would have known. But my life is far more important to me than any damage I might cause by striking yet another blow against the ability of a deeply traumatised man to feel love or trust." She looked down, drawing Kennedy's eyes to the vampire's, which were open, lying there conscious and watching, not even _breathing._ "I am sorry, Liam. I know you can't believe me, not...not after _that_ , but. If I release you, will you run off to slake your thirst on innocent humans?"

"No," he said coldly. She must have let go of whatever hold she had over him, because he sat up, scrabbling away from her with an expression of abject horror on his face. "Don't take this the wrong way, Zabini—" She flinched as he spat her last name at her. "—but Hot Shite was absolutely right about you."

She took a single step forward, a hand extended toward him. "Liam..."

"No! Stay away from me. Just– Just stay away from me." He shook his head, backing away slowly until he reached the stairs, then turned and fled with unnatural vampire speed.

The evil sorceress collapsed to the mattress on the floor, burying her face in her knees. Kennedy thought there might have been tears in her eyes, in the brief moment before she hid them. "Bella," she mumbled, letting out a little sniffle. "If you're listening, this would be a really good time to stop lurking."

"Are you faking that?" Kennedy blurted out, unthinking.

" _Kennedy!_ " Willow hissed, kneeling to rub Zabini's back. "You heard her, she only did it to protect us..."

"Or she said that and she's faking _this_ because she wants _us_ to still trust her, even if Spike doesn't."

"Hey," the shadow demon said, skipping down the stairs. "What did you guys do to Spike? He just ran out looking like he lost a fight with a dementor." Then she apparently took in the scene before her. "Woah. What did you do to _Zee?_ You're not _actually crying_ , are you?"

 _See_ , Kennedy mouthed at Willow behind the little demon's back, as she crossed to kneel on the other side of her friend.

Willow glared at her, a very obvious, _you're being immature_ glare, but Kennedy thought it was warranted. The demon had outright _admitted_ she was conning them all, it wasn't like she could _blame them_ for refusing to feel sorry for her. She definitely hadn't seemed very repentant telling them exactly what she'd done.

"Er...we were trying to figure out that...trigger thing Hot Shit put in Spike's head, you know, to make him go all vamp-y? And, er...we kind of triggered it. And Mira..."

"I had to make him hate me, Bella," she admitted, in a small, shaking voice. "I– I did it on purpose, and yes, it was the right choice, and yes, I knew I might have to when I enthralled him in the first place, but— I think I might be sick. I can't— My hands are shaking, I— _Please_ , Bella..."

Bella sighed. "You two should leave," she informed them.

"Why?"

"Are you sure? I mean, if there's anything we can do..."

"There's really not. Zee has a _thing_ about making people hate her. A phobic, visceral repulsion, panicky thing. Even people who otherwise have _zero_ influence over her life, and people she'd happily murder, it's weird. So we're going to do soft, sex-adjacent things until she stops panicking, and you being here, being all judgmental and uncomfortable and pitying and awkward, is absolutely _not_ the kind of attention she needs to be at the centre of right now, so." She flicked her fingers toward the stairs.

"Right," Kennedy nodded, grabbing Willow's hand and pulling her to her feet. "We're gone."

"Lock the door behind you," the smaller girl said absently, wrapping herself around her own girlfriend (still curled into a sniffling ball) and nuzzling her face into her neck.

Yep, _so_ out of here...


	27. Meanwhile, in Los Angeles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double-post 2 of 2

Faith shouldn't be here. She knew that. Angel had been fucking _crystal_ about there being a _situation_ in Sunnydale, about going in under the radar, not letting Buffy and the Scoobs know she was there backing them up, because _anyone_ could be an agent of this First Evil they were trying to fight off. That was its whole gig, talking people into doing its bidding, that nasty little voice whispering at the back of your mind that maybe it'd be a good idea to buy a gun or jump off a bridge, you worthless slug of a human being, or that if you just open _one_ little portal to hell, the god that you summon will give you everything you ever dreamed of.

Just like that Nigerian prince will shower you with gold and diamonds for the low, low price of however much you got. _Right_.

He said it had been fucking with them something fierce, appearing looking like dead people. Some dumbass wannabe supervillian that killed Willow's girlfriend. Dawn and Buffy's mom. Buffy herself, to screw with Spike, apparently, which was just _classic_. It talked a girl into suicide — apparently Buff was running a halfway house for misplaced wannabe baby Slayers now — and now they had these two weird demon girls who showed up out of nowhere.

Well, out of the fucking hellmouth, actually (they claimed they were _on holiday_ and _got lost_ ) — suspicious as hell. One could give a Slayer a run for her money in the killing things department and the other was a smooth-talking head-shrinker, femme fatale type — basically the same deal as the First Evil, but in the body of a sixteen-year-old nympho instead of whispering at the back of their minds. They _seemed_ to be on the side of the angels (no pun intended) for now, but only because they thought the First Evil _wasn't evil enough_ to call itself that, and the violent one had been offended enough to pick a fight with it. But the gang really had no way to know, their oh-so-helpful demonic visitors could just be waiting for the perfect moment to betray them, could be leading them into a trap.

Personally, Faith thought it sounded like the Scoobies had lost their collective minds, totally paranoid. But that was what this thing _did_ , apparently. Got people second guessing their second guesses until they didn't know up from down or enemies from friends.

It was bad enough Buffy had called Angel, asking for help, an outside set of eyes to ride herd on their new demon friends, maybe lop their heads off if he thought it was called for. She couldn't trust her own judgment, so. But, well, have you seen the news lately? It's _raining fire_ out there! His hands were more than full.

He'd begged her to handle this. He couldn't leave L.A., and they couldn't have the motherfucking Slayer losing her mind in the middle of her own apocalypse.

The truly fucked up thing here, she thought, creeping silently though the unused hallways of Angel's hotel, was that if it had been _anyone_ else— If _Buffy_ had been on the other side of the glass, begging for her help, Faith would have told her to go fuck herself. That this was _her_ problem, not Faith's. This was just another one of those _world might end_ things that seemed to happen about once every other year or so. The Scoobies always handled them just fine without her before. Most of the time, she made things worse, even. They were better off without her help.

But this was _Angel_.

She owed him her life, and while he had supported her decision to pay for her mistakes by staying in the pen, working on being a better person, getting her G.E.D. and shit, she knew he'd always thought she should take a more active approach to atoning for her sins. That was why he was doing the whole white-knight-in-the-dark, Angel Investigations thing, right? Trying to do some good to make up for all the bad in his past?

Sitting in lock-up when the world needed her, when _he_ needed her, wasn't doing anyone any fucking good, was it? So, screw it. If Angel needed her, she was there. No question. He was the only person who'd been there for her, he knew her better than anyone, knew what it meant to her, serving her time. He wouldn't ask her to break out if it wasn't more important than that.

But that wasn't the real reason she'd done it, the reason she was sneaking around his creepy, mostly-abandoned hotel in the middle of the night.

There'd been something...off, about him. Like the fact that he was there at all. Because he wouldn't ask her to break out if it wasn't more important than her serving her time, but there was about _nothing_ Angel considered more important than making things right between yourself and the world or society or the people you'd wronged, or whoever. Like how he was so insistent that she go help Buffy, when it sounded like _he_ could use her help a hell of a lot more than Paranoid Princess Barbie. Sure, Sunnydale might have a couple of demons fucking with their heads, but if Buffy couldn't take it she could just kill them herself.

Meanwhile, fire. Falling from the sky. Seemed a hell of a lot more concerning to Faith.

She'd asked around a couple of places, getting her bearings after getting the hell out of Dodge, and it sounded like things were even more fucked up around here than she'd thought. Some demon had ripped through Wolfram and Hart, slaughtering more than three-quarters of their people, for one thing. Wes was apparently a badass now, and Angel and Darla had had a kid? He definitely had _not_ mentioned _that_ in his visits, _or_ that the kid was kidnapped to some hell dimension and came back like a year later, sixteen years older. Not like _that_ was suspicious, or anything. Word was, some giant beast of a demon had been kicking Angel's ass all over town, and maybe that was connected to the sky being on fire? (Though that had only happened the one night.)

None of that was why she'd broken out, though — she hadn't found that shit out until later, when she was already on the outside. It was really just... If this thing was fucking with people's heads, if no one could be trusted, if Angel was being weird and cagey and asking her to do something he _really_ wouldn't ask unless it was his absolute _last_ resort, well... Faith couldn't help thinking that _maybe_ it wasn't _Buffy_ who needed her help, checking out the people around himself and keeping his head on straight. That _maybe_ when he said _keep your head down, I'll meet you as soon as I can_ , what he meant was _come find me, because I don't know who I can trust._

At the _very_ least, she had to check it out. Get the scoop on what exactly was happening around here. If it turned out everything was five by five, great. Shiny. She'd go bail out Buffy because Angel had asked her to. If not, though...

There were footsteps up ahead, the sound of a door closing around the next corner. Faith sidled up to it, back pressed against the wall, peeking around to see a skinny chick curled up in an armchair, a book lying open over one arm, obviously asleep. There was another chair there too, sitting on the other side of a door like guarding it or something, though her partner had obviously gone to the bathroom — she heard a toilet flush a couple doors down, ducked into the closest doorway to avoid being seen by the other guard.

So. What the hell was in that room? It was, or should be, right on the other side of that wall there, and she could hear a pair of voices there, maybe...but not clearly enough to make out what they were saying.

Hmm...

She slipped through the empty room, over to the window. No balcony on this room, but there _was_ one on the room she was trying to spy on, and there was a little decorative ledge there, and she could use _that_ part of the facade as a handhold, and it wasn't that far, only about fifteen feet. She could make it, easy.

(This was a _terrible_ idea, but she was going to do it anyway.)

She eased herself out of the window, sidling onto the ledge, one hand clinging desperately to the frame as the other scrabbled for a hold on the outer wall of the building.

 _There!_ She let out a sigh of relief as she found her grip on another ledge thing about a foot above her head. Inching her way carefully toward the balcony — four stories was a long fall for even a Slayer to walk away from — the voices slowly became clearer.

A man and a woman, it sounded like. A deep chuckle covered the light thump as she hopped over the balustrade to the relative security of the balcony. Relative because the French door that opened onto it was cracked open to let in the night breeze, and the windows were only covered by light curtains. She crouched in a spot where, if they opened it and came out here, the door would cover her.

"But you must admit, my Lady," the man said, his tone light and accent British. Reminded her of Wes, though she was pretty sure it wasn't him. Wes was...fussier. "If they are all so firmly set against you — and you know they are — there is no hope of success. You may love us better than they, but your love draws you too close to us. Their cruel distance allows them the perspective to foresee and upset any plan you might create."

The "Lady" sniffed. "They may have sent you to upset my plans, Tom—" Okay, definitely not Wes. "—but bringing about a reign of eternal night was not ultimately _my_ goal. That was Milo's pet project. It would have served to draw the denizens of darkness, corruption, and chaos to the surface to be destroyed, would have distracted Angel and his friends from me, but in the end it doesn't matter."

"So you have found some way to salvage your plan!" the man said, sounding _awfully_ happy about that. Whose side was he on, here?

"I have indeed. It seems that their foolish intervention has come too late. The other Powers, stubborn and influential as they may be in their own spheres, have far less power here while contained on their own plane than I will once I have fully manifested on this one." She paused.

"But how will you do so, my Lady? Please, I long to know — I long to _help_ , in any way I can. It is the least I can do, after having allowed myself to be used against you as I have been."

There was a long, considering hum, and then, "Can you keep a secret, Tom?"

"For you, my Lady? Of course."

"I'm pregnant."

There was a moment of shocked silence, then astonishment. "Truly, my Lady? But— That's wonderful! I knew my Lady seemed even more radiant than usual tonight. But...I'm afraid I fail to see..."

"Mortals so often do. As you well know, _this_ vessel is imperfect, unable to contain all that I am, and limiting. So _very_ limiting..." She trailed off, apparently lost in thought.

After a short pause, the man prompted her to continue. "Quite frankly — if I may be frank, in my Lady's presence?" "His Lady" must have nodded or something. "Well, in that case, I'm rather surprised that Miss Cordelia's fragile human body is capable of containing as much of you as it does."

The thing possessing Cordelia — that wasn't Cordelia _Chase_ , was it? that stuck-up bitch from Sunnydale? — made a self-satisfied little _hmm_. "Our dear friend Cordelia wasn't entirely human by the time she...vacated this body." Shit, now that he said something, she could hear it, it totally was! "I arranged for her to be... _transformed_ , you might say. Re-written by the _other_ Powers with certain... _less human_ attributes. Attributes which, among other things, allow her flesh to withstand my presence, and give her the potential to bring my _true_ vessel into this world."

"So this pregnancy you're carrying, it's the vessel which will allow you to bring yourself forth onto this plane?" the man said, obviously more than a little stunned.

"Indeed." Could she _be_ any more smug?

"That's– That's _fantastic,_ my Lady!" Was it? Was it _really_? "May I ask who the lucky man is who will be my Lady's 'father'?"

"Connor."

Connor? That was Angel's kid, right?

"Connor?" Surprise and...almost disappointment mingled in the man's tone.

" _Mmm,_ yes. I was concerned at first that his seed hadn't taken, that with your interference I would be unable to convince him to be with me again, but I feel it now, quickening within me, new life. It's... It's _amazing_ , really."

"Why _Connor?_ "

The thing possessing Cordelia chuckled. "Why? Jealous?"

"No. Stunning as your radiance is, and intoxicating as I find your presence, I'm quite deeply entangled with someone else, my Lady — several someones, actually — and entirely satisfied with our arrangement. But the boy's father is." _Angel and Cor? No fucking way_. "And comparing the two of them..."

"No, Connor is the only acceptable candidate. I went to a great deal of trouble to ensure his birth — vampires cannot breed, you know. And yet Connor is the son of two vampires, born with a human soul and all the strength of their demons. He is an _impossibility_ , one which will give rise to another, even more incredible being."

"I see. And how long must we wait for that blessed day? I know that you graced him with your body only once—" Faith barely avoided snorting — _graced him with your body?_ That was cheesy romance novel talk if she'd ever heard it. Who actually talked like that? "—and that not long ago. I will admit that I'm not terribly familiar with the reproductive process, but to feel new life moving within you already seems rather...precipitous."

Cordelia's laugh, Faith thought, was just as annoying as it always had been. "A month. Less, now. You seem displeased." The...whatever the hell was using Cordelia as a monster-incubator seemed pretty displeased itself about that.

The man let out a troubled sigh. "My concern is two-fold, my Lady. Firstly, much as my sympathies lie with you and your goals, my loyalty and my honour compel me to oppose you — especially if your plans are not so thoroughly upset as I believed." The thing started to object, its fury almost physical, but the man didn't seem intimidated. He kept talking right over her. (Seemed disrespectful to Faith, especially since he was all _my Lady_ this and _your radiance_ that, but what did she know? Also, if he was _compelled to oppose her_ , was he a bad guy, or not?) "Secondly, no one can know — Angel, Wyndam-Pryce—" Wes was here, too? She knew he was in town, but like, _here_ here? Just one big Sunnydale reunion, huh... "They've hesitated to simply execute you in the hopes of recovering the human Cordelia — I _have_ managed to convince them that there is still some hope of doing so — but if they knew that you are so very close to achieving true manifestation, they _would_ swallow their moral qualms to prevent your pregnancy coming to term. And much as I might wish to prevent their doing so, I'm hardly physically qualified for the task."

"You... You're _not_ going to tell them?"

"Of course not. I still believe we can come to a compromise which would satisfy those who have enlisted me to do their bidding and yet achieve your ideal world in the end."

" _Compromising_ my ideal is the precise opposite of achieving it, Tom."

"My Lady, we have more immediate problems to consider! I know you know it's no coincidence I've been your only visitor. I will admit, I feared that if the locals were to speak to you, they might realise that I am not quite so devoted to 'saving' their world from you as I've led them to believe." So he _was_ a bad guy. Got it. "But the compulsions I used to keep them away from you will unravel soon, and those damnable amulets prevent me from renewing them — at this rate of development, it will be impossible to hide your state within a week. They _will_ find out, and they _will_ kill you."

Which would, Faith was thinking, be the right move. She didn't know what "ideal world" this bitch was trying to "achieve", but whatever it was she was betting she wouldn't like it. If Angel and Wes had her locked up here, and she _admitted_ that Cordelia had "vacated" her body (whatever the fuck _that_ was supposed to mean), as far as Faith was concerned she should _probably_ be cutting that thing's head off right about now. Not that she had an axe or anything, but staking it would probably work, too.

The "Lady" huffed at him. "Well, that wouldn't be a problem if _someone_ hadn't killed my strongest, most loyal servant, would it!"

"If I had known he belonged to _you_ , my Lady, I would have found some other way to foil his plan and protect the Egyptian. It pains me to have harmed you, even so indirectly, and even more to have endangered you by removing him from the game. What is done, however, is done."

"And I can hardly summon another such creature to protect me with the household on high alert as they are — _again_ thanks to your interference."

"I would beg your forgiveness a thousand times, my Lady, if doing so held the power to reverse my transgressions against you. Unfortunately, it does not."

The "Lady" sniffed, apparently taking offence to his tone, which had been a little bitchy. "Mouthy brat." She sighed. "Bring Connor here, I wish to speak to him."

"Are you certain, my Lady? The boy is...quite furious with your deception. And I would be no more capable of holding _him_ off than I would his father."

_Or a Slayer..._

" _That_ was before he knew he was going to be a father himself, wasn't it? Furious with me though he may be, you have _no_ idea how twisted up the boy is around the concept of _family_. I had wondered whether it was worth the trouble of accelerating his development to breeding age, but it may turn out that sending him to Quor'toth to be raised by that fool was even more beneficial than I thought. Angel will hesitate to kill his own son as surely as the boy will hesitate to act against _his_ unborn child, and he's more than a match for Wesley. Yes, I am certain. Bring him to me."

Yeah, Faith was thinking _no_. If Demon-Cordelia was going to have a competent bodyguard here soon, this might be her best opportunity to strike. She'd heard _more_ than enough to justify the kill, she was _pretty fucking sure_ this was exactly what she needed to do.

_Now!_

She slipped the knife she'd taken off some druggie pimp out of its sheath, tugged the stake from the back of her waistband, and in one smooth motion, even as the man said, "Yes, my Lady," kicked in the fucking door.

The demon, whatever it actually _was_ — yeah, that was Cordelia Chase alright, though it looked like she'd put on a few pounds — cowered on a sofa, doing a very convincingly Cordelia-like scream, as the man — slight build, taller than Faith, would have reach on her, but unarmed, blue eyes wide with surprise — just stared in shock at Faith's abrupt appearance. Neither of them did a damn thing to stop her entering the room or crossing it at a run. Three steps brought her within striking distance of not-Cordy's terrified face. And also _her_ within striking distance for Cordy — the bitch _flailed_ , backhanding her hard enough to make Faith wonder if she'd been turned into a goddamned vampire too before being taken over by this thing.

Lucky shot. Wouldn't happen again.

Still, she stumbled, not expecting it, tripped over the coffee table. She managed to turn the fall into a roll, but by the time she was back on her feet the man was between her and her target. He'd gotten a knife for himself from somewhere, like he thought he actually stood a chance against her. Fucking hysterical, considering he looked about as threatening as _Wes_ — pre-badass, bookish British Watcher Wes. But, hey, that was all fine and dandy, she'd heard enough to justify killing _this_ fucker, too. The door slammed open in the next second, the skinny chick who'd been sleeping in the chair and a moderately buff black guy, both a little younger than Faith, standing there all shocked in much the same way the man had when she'd broken down the door. The girl had a crossbow, and the guy a _very_ pretty sword — one of Wesley's, she was pretty sure.

"You must be Faith," Demon-Cordy's would-be knight in weird-ass faux-Victorian costume said, kicking the coffee table out of the way rather than walk around it. "Miss Burkle, Mister Gunn, I suggest you fetch Angel," he said firmly, gesturing for Gunn, who was already recovering and making as though to move into the room. It wasn't really clear which of them he was planning on helping, so Faith seconded that notion. "I'll keep our friend here busy in the meanwhile."

"No offence, Riddle, but out of the two of us, I'm pretty sure I'm better qualified to hold off a crazy Slayer."

"I beg to differ," the man said, holding her eyes, rather than look over to Gunn — suggesting he actually _did_ know _something_ about fighting, but he was fucking kidding himself if he thought he could stop _her_ killing "his Lady" when he outright _said_ he wouldn't be able to stop fucking _Wes_. He grinned. "Unless you're hoping she would hesitate to kill _you_ to reach her objective." Well...she might. Gunn was obviously on the side of the angels (pun totally intended), seeing as he'd been _guarding_ Evil-Cordelia, whereas this fucker was _conspiring_ with her. "Go!"

They went.

"Faith?" Demon-Cordy said, obviously still scared, though she'd equally obviously recovered her senses, on her feet and edging toward the door. Faith shifted to her left to stop the bitch escaping. "What are you _doing_ here? Angel said you broke out of prison, but—"

"Can it, Bodysnatcher. I know you're not Cordelia. And I know you need to die. You. Tom. Get out of the fucking way, unless you want to go first."

"Was I unclear, regarding my intention to keep you busy until Angel arrives to sort out what I _sincerely_ hope is some misunderstanding on your part? I wouldn't _dream_ of actually _defeating_ you in a knife fight, but I dare say I can hold my own for a few minutes at least."

Yeah, right. He was facing her side on, his weight on his back foot, ready to lunge or scoot back, like he might be able to hold his own in some fancy British fencing tournament, but definitely not in any sort of position to dodge an attack from the side, and he didn't _have_ a sword. His knife did look wicked sharp, but it was only eight inches long. Size wasn't everything, sure, but it didn't look like he knew how to use it, either, so.

"Have it your way, then," she muttered, opening not with a jab or a slice, but a spinning kick aimed at his head. He ducked like he was expecting it and lunged in to make a swipe at her ribs while she was off balance, but she let her momentum carry her through her spin, crouching to sweep his supporting leg out from under him, pouncing on him as he fell.

He was quick, she'd give him that — he dropped his knife to grab her upper arms, throwing them into an awkward, sideways roll. He landed on top, but didn't stay there long — she was a hell of a lot stronger than she looked, throwing him off of her and into the coffee table was hardly more difficult than it would've been if she was standing.

The coffee table, made of sturdier stuff than most coffee tables she'd encountered in situations like this, was entirely unharmed. The man, on the other hand, groaned, hauling himself to his feet. "I hate fighting without magic," he complained, glaring at her as he shrugged off his coat, leaving him in a hilariously frilly, off-white, _belongs on the cover of the same shitty romance novel he gets his lines from_ pirate shirt, and black leather pants that might've been distracting if she hadn't had more important things to worry about. Like killing evil shit. Including his leather-clad ass. "If we were in my world, I could simply have cursed you into a bloody pulp, you know."

"Just take her over!" Demon-Cordy snapped at him.

"She appears to be resistant, my Lady."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Faith demanded.

Neither answered, the man giving her an infuriating smirk. "Weren't you trying to kill me?"

Yes. Yes, she was. She darted in, feinting with the knife, aiming a jab at his gut with the stake — a jab he intercepted with his fucking coat, whipping it around her arm and spinning inside her guard to keep the feint from actually becoming a strike. They ended up with her pressed against his back, a sharp elbow in her own gut, knocking the wind out of her. She still almost managed to stick him, bringing the knife directly toward herself on pure reflex — if he hadn't been in the way, she might've stabbed _herself_.

He caught her arm but wasn't strong enough to actually _stop_ her as she realised where they were, exactly, dragging the knife closer to cutting his fucking throat...right up to the point he growled something under his breath, hooking his right ankle around hers and throwing his head back in a solid attempt to break her nose. And also tip them off balance.

He might be a skinny bastard, but this _Tom_ character still had about four inches and twenty pounds on Faith. In the awkward position they'd ended up caught in, she realised in the split second she felt her balance go, she wasn't going to be able to avoid cracking her head on the floor. _Fuck!_

(Also, _ow!_ )

Not the worst knock she'd ever gotten, but definitely enough to disorient her for a second or two.

Long enough for the man to score a shallow line along her right arm with her own knife and then... She...felt him. In her head. Like the mother of all pressure headaches coming on almost _instantly_. Everything went dark for the space of a blink. And when the world came back into focus, she wasn't in control of her own body anymore.

It was possibly the weirdest, most terrifying thing that had ever happened to her, which, _Slayer_. Kind of saying a lot. He just _left her there_ , lying helpless on the floor as he rolled off her, back to his feet, breathing hard.

"Never fear, my Lady. I shall ensure she does not recall any part of our conversation before the locals are able to question her."

He would _what?!_ What the hell was going on? Why couldn't she _move_?!

_That would be because I've taken possession of your body._

He _WHAT?! HOW?!_

 _Oh, calm down. I'm not going to_ do _anything to you._

 _Do something?_ Like _what?_

Anything I like _, Miss Lehane._ A memory that wasn't hers flashed across her mind — overwhelming horror and the pain of her own fingers digging into her own flesh, feeling the heat of her own blood washing over her hands—

"Very good," Demon-Cordy said, sounding rather shaken. Faith couldn't see her from here, but she could hear footsteps, feel the floor tremble as reinforcements arrived, with Angel at the fore.

" _Faith?!_ "

"Apologies, Angel," the bastard puppetmaster said, pulling Faith to her feet, still reeling from that– that _torture_ — _the fuck was_ that _?!_ (It might've been a good thing she wasn't in charge of her body right now, because if she was she might be throwing up.)

That _was the fate of the_ last _person stupid enough to try to kill me. Dear Lady Luz's late right-hand man. Tell me, Miss Lehane — do you want to know what it feels like to die?_

No! No, she did _not!_ What kind of sick bastard...

 _Tom Riddle, Master of Dark Arts and Magical Theory. Currently acting as a mediator between Fate and Fortune — and by extension both your Powers That Be and the Senior Partners of Wolfram and Hart — and the Aspect of Magic known as the Beloved Devourer, the Hive Queen, or 'Cordelia the Devourer'. She prefers_ Luz _. I must say, your snooping this evening was most fortuitous. I hadn't anticipated an opportunity to so thoroughly demonstrate my unwillingness to see Lady Luz disembodied and set back in her plans. She_ does _look pleased I fended you off, so. Well done._

 _What the actual_ fuck _? Get out of my head, fucking creep!_

 _I will. Soon. If you're as clever as you think you are, you'll play along when I do. Unless you want me to_ actually _erase your memory of the conversation you overheard while you were lurking out there in the dark._ "I know I told you I'd let Miss Lehane have her way with me if she were to ambush me in a dark alley or the like, but I couldn't help myself."

"Faith? What the _hell_ is going on, here? Why are you— I thought you wanted to serve out your time!"

Wait. _What?!_ But Angel was the one who had asked her to— Hadn't he?

 _That was probably the so-called First Evil, actually. I understand Bella and Mimi have rather annoyed it. Setting a supernatural assassin on them is hardly likely to stop them — yes, even you._ I _might need to read your mind to anticipate your attacks and possess you to stop you, but Bellatrix could almost certainly match you in a straight fight, and if you were to harm Mirabella she would certainly cheat in order to kill you._ _Though I suppose you might have helped distract them from their systematic dismantling of the so-called First Evil's own plans. For a day or two, at least._

"Something came up," Faith's mouth said. The puppetmaster handed his coat back to himself with her hand, almost painfully casual about it. "We should talk, downstairs. I think there's been...something of a misunderstanding, here."

"A... _misunderstanding_ ," Angel echoed, eyes flicking toward the warlock pulling her strings, because that was definitely _not_ the way Faith would have put it. "Yeah, I'd say _someone_ has some explaining to do. Everybody out. Gunn, Fred, you're still on guard duty for another hour. I'll fill you in when Lorne and Wes relieve you. Let's go."


	28. Strange Dreams of Sleeping Worlds

So, as it turned out, having a bunch of foreign memories shoved into your mind was...really confusing. Who would've guessed, right?

Dawn had known it would be, that it would take time to sort through everything and kind of...figure out what was what. She just hadn't expected...

She hadn't expected it to really _affect_ her, she guessed.

Yes, she'd thought maybe that was a thing to take into consideration when Buffy wanted to do it, that there might be _consequences_ of some kind, but she hadn't really thought through the details of what they might be. Or, well. She'd expected that she'd have some weird dreams, maybe, but she hadn't thought it was supposed to make her _feel_ any different.

And she did.

And not in a good way.

Mostly? She just felt...out of place. Like something was _wrong_.

Before, she'd _had_ a place — even if she didn't like it, always in the background doing research and stuff, while Buffy and the Potentials actually _did_ things. Now she just... She felt like she didn't fit into that place anymore. Or any place. Or maybe like the places didn't fit _her_.

She was also having _really_ weird dreams.

Not just about being a kid growing up in a prehistoric village in Africa, or a demon running around killing things just to feel their bones crunch between its teeth (those were more _nightmares_ ), but _really_ weird, looking at the universe from the outside sort of dreams. It was pretty much impossible to describe, really, but she thought... She thought she might be remembering being the Key. And she didn't know how she knew, but she was pretty sure she still _was_ the Key. She just didn't remember how to _be_ the Key, if that made any sense.

Oh, who was she kidding, of course it didn't make sense, nothing about _any_ of this made any sense.

Though the weird, confusing dreams didn't bother her _nearly_ as much as the fact that there was nowhere quiet she could sit and think about them. There was always _someone_ around. Usually one of the Potentials. Dawn had done pretty well keeping up and getting to know them at the beginning of this whole...deal, but after Chloe... It was harder, now, letting herself become friends with them, knowing at the back of her head that they were probably going to die. Not all of them, maybe, but some at least. Maybe even her. (Though...she wasn't sure about that. If she _could_ die. She might just...go back to being the Key?)

She didn't _want_ to spend time with them. With any of them, really. Buffy and Xander and Willow were all being hover-y and weird. If Spike hadn't gotten in a fight with Mira and run off, he probably would've been right there with them. Even Giles kept watching her out of the corners of his eyes when he thought _she_ wasn't looking. Like now, sitting at the dining room table with the Slayer Grimoire, surrounded by half a dozen reference books. She'd just been staring at the same phrase for she didn't even know how long, not really seeing it, distracted by the dreams and the side-on staring and just...generally being uncomfortable in her own skin.

Mira was watching her, too. Less obviously than Giles, kind of staring off into the middle distance over a mug — cradling her coffee like it was the elixir of life or something — but Dawn could _feel_ her paying attention to her, like prickles on the back of her neck. It was all she could do not to snap at them to just _leave her alone_. Which, of course, she couldn't, because they weren't really doing anything _offensive_ , it was just— Other people _existing_ around her was rubbing her the wrong way lately.

"Bella."

The tiny demon, passing through with Anya, paused in whatever she was chattering about — Dawn had no idea, they clearly weren't speaking English — to see what her girlfriend wanted. "Yes?"

"You're going for a walk, yes?"

"Yeah, we were going to head over toward the school, see if there's anything _weird_ going on. Prewett's been too quiet lately."

"Take Dawn with you, she needs to get out for a bit."

Well, that did confirm that Mira was watching her, didn't it. Not that she was wrong. Bella turned to Dawn, raising an eyebrow. "Needs to get out like needs to _do_ something or needs to get out like needs to get away from humans being human?"

"The latter," Mira answered, before Dawn could.

"Has anyone ever told you reading minds is kinda creepy?" Dawn asked.

Mira smirked at her over the mug, but didn't answer. (Dawn was betting the answer was _yes_.)

Bella exchanged a look with Anya (who shrugged), before nodding. "'Kay. Coming, Dawn?"

She hurried to find her shoes.

፠

"Yeah, okay, but are there any _other_ geomantic hot-spots around here? Because I don't think it's feasible for Prewett to get to the portal _we_ used now. If I were her, I'd be looking to punch another hole between universes somewhere," Bella said, kicking a rock idly down the street.

They hadn't seen anything obviously out of place, yet. They were just kind of wandering in circles, Bella and Anya carrying on an equally meandering, speculative conversation about magic and Prewett and what the hell it might be up to. They switched to English so they weren't leaving her out (and also because Bella's _Old Norse_ wasn't particularly fluent — sometimes it was totally surreal, thinking that Anya was actually like a thousand years old), but they didn't insist on trying to talk _to Dawn_ , make her participate. And since they could both talk for hours to a completely empty room (probably), it wasn't like they _needed_ her input. Wandering along beside them was almost as good as being alone with her thoughts, without the danger of Prewett sneaking up on her. (Dawn kind of got the impression they mostly wanted a break from _humans being human_ , too.)

"None _that_ strong. If _I_ were her, I'd be looking for a way to divert the San Andreas line just a smidge, move the intersection just enough it's somewhere she _can_ get to it."

"Wait. Is the portal anchored to the physical _place_ , or the metaphysical intersection point?"

Anya shrugged. " _I_ don't know. I don't even know how you'd tell. It _could_ be either. There _are_ gateways that are tied to the ley lines, they've moved over the last few centuries as earthquakes and construction and stuff affects the magical currents. But even if it's not and she has to make a new one, that'd still be the best hot-spot to use. And the San Andreas is already a little _slippy_ , it'd be the easier of the two to divert. I mean, in theory, I don't know anything about _doing_ that kind of magic, really. There's not really enough magic _in circulation_ to make geomancy worth it, you know? I do know this feng shui guy, though, he might— Okay, you, what's with all the sighing?" she demanded suddenly, cutting herself off to glare at Dawn.

Dawn groaned. They'd made it almost an hour without her having to say anything. Apparently that was all she could ask for. "Oh, I don't know. I guess just... Do you ever feel like you just...don't _fit_ somewhere? Like you're not... Like you're missing something, or kind of just..."

Bella giggled. "All the time."

Anya nodded. "I was good at being a vengeance demon. The first time, I mean. But since I got trapped here, _being human_? Feeling emotions — other than spite and fury, I mean, like _soft_ emotions, and caring about people and stuff? It's like I don't know who I am, anymore."

" _Ew, emotions_ and _caring about people_. Sucks to be you." Anya aimed a smack at the back of the little demon's head. She ducked so it just fluffed her hair a bit more, still giggling.

"That's not what I mean, I don't think," Dawn said. "I don't know."

Anya rolled her eyes. "Well what did you _expect?_ You took on the memories of a twelve-year-old killing machine who died, like, ten _thousand_ years ago. _Her_ place hasn't existed for _millennia_."

"And there's _really_ no place for things like the Predator in a civilised, human-dominated society."

"Yeah, and having their memories is _weird_ , but..." She took a deep breath. Saying it aloud seemed like it would make it more _real_ , somehow. "I think I might still be the Key."

"The Key? Key to what?"

"Er...the universe? Kind of?"

"It's not really a key so much as a conduit," Anya explained, which was good, because Dawn really didn't know how to explain it. "It had the ability to open portals between any plane or universe, but there was this super complicated ritual to use it because, well, it mostly would've had to exist _outside_ , right? But then these crazy monks embodied it as Dawn to keep it away from a dethroned goddess who was trying to get back to her own universe, because _using_ the Key was supposed to break down all the barriers between _all_ the worlds, or something. Yadda yadda, hell on earth, yadda yadda, apocalypse. But I thought you said you _weren't_ the Key anymore."

"I didn't think I was!" Dawn squeaked. "Or, you know, since they _did_ the ritual, when Buffy..." _when Buffy died_ "...I thought it was _over_ , whatever the Key opened it's already _been_ opened, and closed again, and it's done, that's it. Nothing to see here."

Bella gave her an _are you really that stupid_ look. "Dawn...you know that's not how keys _work_ , right? I mean, your house key doesn't _stop existing_ because you unlocked and re-locked your front door, does it?"

"Shut up, Bella," she snapped, feeling her face grow red. "I thought it was like– like a _metaphor_ or something!"

"Well, it kind of sounds like it is. Like you're a small but essential piece of the mechanism which is the system of planar boundaries and the shape of the universe, without which everything stays neatly in place. But if they introduce you into that mechanism in the right way, you have the potential to open everything up, move shite around. Key. Lock. Metaphor. Yep, makes sense. Also, neat! Why would you think you _weren't_ the metaphorical key, though?"

"There was this... In the ritual, my blood had to stop flowing to stop it, and Buffy...she interrupted. She... They used her, the monks, to make me, so we have the same blood. She thought if _her_ blood stopped flowing, that would stop it. And it did. So I thought... Maybe I just _wanted_ it to be over, I don't know."

"But now you think it's not," Anya said, cutting off whatever Bella was about to say. (Probably just something that would make Dawn feel really stupid about things that happened _years_ ago, not anything important _now_.)

Dawn sighed. "I don't know. I've had some weird dreams before, like since Willow, you know, _Dark Willow_ , threatened to turn me back into a ball of energy, but I thought that was just...just dreams. But since we did the ritual with Kiki, it's more like _remembering_ things. Like I kind of sort of remember being her and the demon. And I can't really explain it, but it's like...kind of looking at the world from...from the _outside_ , somehow? And like, when I'm asleep, in my dreams, everything makes perfect sense and I understand everything, but I lose it when I wake up. Like, have you ever had a dream where you could speak French or something, even though you don't speak French?"

"I don't really dream," the little demon said with a light shrug. "And I do speak French, anyway."

Of course she did. And this was _exactly_ why she and Anya got along so well. Dawn let out a little frustrated _grr_. "Not _literally_ , just— Anya, do you know what I mean?"

"Um, that you're _definitely_ still the Key, and Willow accidentally started breaking down the human consciousness that makes you _Dawn_?"

"She _what?!"_

Bella sniggered. "No, she didn't. We _disrupted_ Dawn's self-concept by giving her Kiki and the Predator's memories. Like... Like rain falling into a pond. There's ripples, things get mixed up, maybe some things deeper down get pulled to the surface. Okay, not a perfect metaphor there, but whatever. The new memories will be integrated and you'll stabilise eventually. You're not falling apart, or whatever you're thinking. And it's not all _that_ weird you're remembering the perspective that you had outside the universe. I mean, it is, because I wouldn't have expected you to be a conscious entity before you were embodied, but you _are_ still connected to the greater whole of the barriers or planar boundaries or whatever. You're _part_ of them, like I'm part of Eris and the Dark and Magic Itself. It could be more of a _broader awareness_ thing than a _memory_ thing. You know, being unconscious just stops you filtering out your awareness of the parts of you which lie _beyond_ the world your conscious, mortal mind understands? It's a whole _thing_."

A really _weird_ thing. She wasn't really sure she was wrapping her mind around it at the moment, still kind of distracted by the _breaking down her consciousness_ thing. Or _not_ breaking down, whatever. Still kinda freaky to think about. (She was suddenly thinking maybe Buffy's concern about her psychological integrity might've been a lot more reasonable than it seemed _before_ the ritual, even if this definitely wasn't what she and Mira had meant.)

"So was that what was bothering you?" Anya asked — as though she should be _less_ bothered, now, knowing that she wasn't just _having weird dreams_ so much as _remembering things beyond mortal comprehension_.

"Well, kind of. Partly. But... See, the thing is, it's _weird_ dreaming about looking at the world from the outside, but the _really_ uncomfortable, something's _wrong_ feeling _thing_ is... It's not _me_. It's more like...like there's something wrong _with the world_. And I don't know what it is, but I wake up feeling sick, like I want to cry, and just... I don't know _what's_ wrong, but the world isn't supposed to be like _this_ , somehow. It's _broken_." She didn't think she was making much sense, but Anya and Bella exchanged a look on opposite sides of her like _they_ knew what the hell she was talking about, even if she didn't. "What?"

"Well, you're not _wrong_ ," Anya said, with all her usual tact. "It's not _broken_ , but this world wasn't always like this."

"I know — it used to be a hell-world, right?"

Anya gave a little considering _hmm_. "Yes. I wasn't around back then, obviously. I was born human, and not _that_ long ago. But the Lower Beings — Lesser Demons like D'Hoffryn, you know — have...legends, I guess you would call them, about the Fall. The rise of humanity and the Fall of Magic. _They_ weren't there to see it either — this started _way_ back, like a hundred thousand years ago, when the Old Ones walked freely and humans were just slightly smarter monkeys. Life — native, mortal life — wasn't quite sentient, yet."

"Ooh, yay! Story time!"

Bella grinned expectantly up at the former vengeance demon, prompting a slightly embarrassed smile. People didn't really ask Anya about being a demon, even though she obviously appreciated it when they did. "This world still belonged to the Old Ones, who came here from another universe, or maybe their plane merged with ours or something untold millennia before. They'd made this world their own over aeons, had their own civilizations and cultures and ancient wars. They'd driven the Powers That Be — beings who grew out of Magic Itself and the nature of the Universe — out of the mortal plane, transforming it in their image, not unlike humans would later transform it in _theirs_. The Powers just weren't _relevant_. The Old Ones and their children, spawned from their conflict and their violence, changed the world to reflect themselves and _their_ world, not the natural magic of _this_ universe.

"It's said that in the Beginning — which wasn't really the beginning, the Powers and the Old Ones existed before, obviously, but whatever — the Powers gained consciousness due to the influence of the Old Ones. Nature, after all, _isn't_ conscious — water and wind and fire, they don't _want_ to be, they simply _are_. But the Old Ones made an impression on the magic of this world even as they pushed it aside, and the Powers That Be decided _no_ , they would not be driven entirely out of this world which was their home. This is the source of their _being_ , they didn't want to die. So they began to cultivate life. Native, mortal life. Plants and animals so small and insignificant they went unnoticed at first. Little single-celled things in the oceans, mostly, driven together by fate and chance and subtle magic, changing and becoming more complex — by the time the Old Ones realised they existed, they were already _everywhere_ , and impossible to exterminate.

"They did _try_ , but anything that harmed _some_ life benefited other parts of it, so life persisted and continued to become more complex — and demonkind changed, too, becoming more reliant on life. Opposing it, yes, some of them. The ones who realised the Powers were behind it. But also feeding on it. Making it a tool in their wars against each other, using it and allowing it to flourish, sometimes even encouraging it, if it harmed their enemies to do so. Eventually, the face of this world was transformed, plants and animals everywhere — ones we would actually _call_ plants and animals, I mean — and the Old Ones and their children were still more concerned with each other than the Powers they weren't even really aware of, and life, generally speaking, grew to be accepted, just a feature of this world, you know? It affected local magic, giving rise to the Lesser Powers, but aside from that it wasn't really a big deal any more than, I don't know, a new ant colony popping up is a big deal.

"So that was the Primordial Age—"

"Hey, hey, wait! What are the Lesser Powers?" Dawn interrupted. Because she'd heard of the Powers That Be, but...

Bella grinned. "Magical consciousnesses that form around basic, animal experiences of the world. Life, death. Pack. Birth. Fucking. Hunger and satisfaction. _Killing_."

"Wait. You don't mean..."

"The Predator? Sure."

"But I thought it was a _demon!_ "

Anya sighed. "The Lesser Powers aren't all _good_ and like, pro-life pro-humanity like the Powers That Be. There's not a whole lot of difference between Lesser Powers and Lesser Demons, a lot of the time. Lesser Powers are older and tend to be _simpler_ , but some of them continued developing along with humanity too. The real difference is just that Lesser Powers are consciousnesses that originally arose out of local magic, before maybe being influenced by mortal or external consciousness."

"Apparently Prewett might be a mostly-forgotten Lesser Power related to destruction that was later influenced by human concepts of good and evil," Bella volunteered. "No idea how to test that theory yet, or how it helps us deal with the bitch if it is, but." She shrugged. "The Predator was almost certainly that sort of thing, possessing some kind of leopard or hyena or something before the shamans of Kiki's village captured it and bound it to her."

Anya nodded. "Lesser Powers aren't really _super_ important to the story, they just happened to exist as a consequence of unconscious local life developing here. About forty thousand years ago or so, though, something changed. Native life hit a sort of turning point, becoming complex enough to become _aware_. Humans you could actually call _humans_. It happened fast — a hundred human generations is barely a blink for beings who've existed for _millions_ of years, in some cases. So, practically overnight, human life became conscious, and there was an _explosion_ in demonic life too, as the youngest children of the Old Ones attached themselves to this local mortal consciousness, recognizing in it the same motivations and energy that fueled the wars of the Old Ones, but more _immediate_. They fed on human fears and pain and lust and became strong — and more important, independent of the Old Ones who had spawned their existence.

"The Old Ones' power was largely based on and vested in their children, so as their children gained independence, they grew weaker. And the nature of demonkind being what it is, their children — Greater Demons — began to turn on them. Some of the Old Ones created new children, attacking humans directly to attack their rebellious spawn indirectly, and new spirits rose out of the influences of human consciousness on the magic of this world, much like the Powers emerged from it in the Beginning. These became Lesser Demons which preyed on humanity, but had little to do directly with the war between the Greater Demons and the Old Ones. And humans continued to grow and change, carving out a place for themselves in the physical world, inventing ways to assure their survival — tools and fire and gardening and so on — and ways to ward off the Lesser Demons that plagued them, using the magic in the world around them to their own advantage, with the support of the Powers That Be and some of the Lesser Powers and younger spirits.

"That was a sort of golden age for demons. Lesser Demons, I mean. But then about ten thousand years ago, things changed again. Human societies started growing larger and more complex, much as life itself had become exponentially more complex, spreading and cultivating and _domesticating_ this world, undermining the wildness and violence which was the basis of the Old Ones and the Greater Demons' power, allowing them to eventually be conquered by life and the Powers and _sealed away_. The magic of this world was tamed and turned against them, shaped into a single, massive spell that keeps them...contained."

"Yeah, but _how_?" Bella interrupted. "I assume it has something to do with the Slayer and coordinated efforts to eliminate the demons on the part of humans, but..."

Anya shrugged. "I already told you, that's all I know. It's something the Powers orchestrated, trapping them outside of _all_ universes and devoting the magic of this world to _keeping_ them there. That's the beginning of the Fall. The last remnants of their power on this plane were driven from it over the course of just a few thousand years — again, a blink. And now this world is...asleep. The Lesser Demons followed voluntarily, mostly, becoming refugees in other planes and dimensions adjacent to this one as humanity continued to spread, taking over _everything_ , until the only _native_ demons left in this world are parasitic types like vampires."

"Huh. Something like that happened in my world, too, you know. Humans aren't the only conscious life there, we have a dozen or so species of native non-human beings. But the most magical have been driven out as humans have become overwhelmingly dominant. No human has seen any of the Greater Fae in about three hundred years."

"Greater Fae?" Anya asked, their conversation continuing, moving on without Dawn.

She was distracted by the idea of _sealing away_ the big-name demons, wondering how that even _worked_ , and why she was so certain when she heard it that that was it. The thing that was _wrong_. Which was...ridiculous, right? Surely the world was better off without a bunch of warring immortal demons trying to kill each other and every living thing on the planet, right? That was why they were trying to keep Prewett at bay, because it wanted to kill them all, throw the world into eternal darkness — that meant breaking whatever seals were holding back the Greater Demons, right? And the Old Ones?

The seals that the _Powers That Be_ had put in place, remember — or had humans put in place, somehow.

Who the hell was _she_ to be questioning the _actual gods_ of her world?

She was just– just _Dawn Summers_. Perfectly normal, destiny-free teenager. The Slayer's kid sister!

...And also the Key to a lock she didn't understand, but she was starting to think might actually be the entire goddamned universe.

( _Holy shit._ )

 _Hey, Magic? Er...the Universe? Powers That Be, or whatever? If this is because of all the times I wished I was important, that there was some actual_ purpose _to my life? Yeah, I_ totally _take it back..._


	29. Prewett's Feeling Neglected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doing another double-post today because they're short, and I want to get back to Tom tomorrow xD

Bella wasn't certain, but she suspected that Anya might've broken Dawn. Just a little. She'd been following them around town in a sort of _daze_ for well over an hour before their conversation was interrupted again.

Anya, Bella thought, might be her favourite person from this universe (other than Kiki, of course). They hadn't spent much time together, Bella had been pretty busy with Buffy and Kiki and Dawn and then Buffy again (and Wood) because she wanted a distraction from her concern about Dawn, and training was as good a distraction as she could possibly ask for (and Wood was a better sparring opponent for her than Bella, being _not tiny_ ). But Anya was better company. Funny and blunt in a way most people found off-putting (according to Zee), and she'd spent over a millennium travelling around this branch of the multiverse granting vengeance wishes and meeting interesting people, so Bella hadn't accidentally horrified her even once.

They'd had a few nice long chats about magic and the nature of the universe, things Anya had picked up here and there over the past thousand years and apparently hadn't really considered all that important or notable until Bella started asking about them, and she had all sorts of stories about people she'd met and places she'd been, and she'd started teaching Bella Old Norse, which was neat. Honestly, if there were an easy way to get from her own universe to this one, Bella thought she might actually enjoy Anya's company enough to come back and visit, which was saying kind of a lot.

They were talking about Lesser Fae in Bella's home universe, specifically house elves, when Anya's mobile telephone rang. There were all sorts of neat muggle technologies here, made Bella wonder whether the muggles in her own universe had things like that. (If they did, she needed to see if she could make those phone things work on magic, because that seemed _far_ more convenient than carrying around separate communication mirrors for Meda, Zee, and Tom.)

"Hello, you've reached Anya Jenkins. May I ask who's calling?

"Yes, she's with me, what are you freaking—

"Calm _down_ , she's _fine_. We haven't even seen anything weird going on.

"We're already on our way back. Why?"

"Who is it?" Bella asked.

"Buffy. No, not _you_ , Bella asked who was— She wants to talk to you," Anya said, rolling her eyes and holding the little machine out to Bella.

She took it gingerly, holding it up to her ear as she'd seen the locals doing. "Buffy?"

"Bella. I... I have something to tell you."

"O...kay? What is it?"

"Er... It's not good. It's about Mira. She, um, decided to go with Andrew and Giles on their supply run today, and..."

"Well, don't leave me in suspense, Summers. What is it?"

"They were attacked. It was some man, Giles said he had a priest's collar, but he was way stronger than normal human strong. He– he took her. Told Andrew and Giles to tell you the First sends its regards, and– and if you want her back _intact_ , you'll come to this creepy old abandoned vinyard tonight — it's a trap, it has to be, but... You should get back here. We need to make a plan."

Bella snorted, trying not to laugh at how _concerned_ the Slayer sounded. "It's not a big deal, Buffy — I can find her through the Shadows, and Zee's been kidnapped before, she's not going to panic. I'll walk Dawn and Anya back so they won't be out here alone and vulnerable first, and then go see if she actually _wants_ to be rescued or if she has things under control."

"If she _has things under control?!_ Bella, she's been _kidnapped!_ By someone who's threatening to rape and kill her if we don't do what he says!"

That time, Bella didn't even try not to giggle. "Must be that _most ardent of Prewett's followers_ that it mentioned. Bet you five galleons Zee's disappointed there's only one. Er, about twenty-five pounds sterling. Not sure what that would be in American money..."

"Bella!"

"Buffy. You can't rape the willing, and I've yet to meet any man Zee _hasn't_ been able to manipulate. If she can't talk her way out of getting murdered, or at least Scheherazade her way into delaying it indefinitely and gather intelligence on Prewett's plans while she's at it, I'll be _shocked_. Besides, if it's a matter of life and death, she'll let me drag her through the Shadows, so there you go. Plan, planned. We should be back in about five minutes. Here, Anya, I don't know how to turn this thing off..."

When Bella finally found Zee, about twenty minutes later, she was sitting calmly in a relatively bright spot, another person, presumably her kidnapper, pacing around her. His soul was a little brighter than the average muggle, and there was a feeling of _depth_ to him that Bella had only felt in proper dedicants before. Prewett wasn't quite as invisible from here, its wraith-like magical presence hovering around both of the humans' — projecting raw fury which suggested that Zee continued not to cooperate with its plans.

It also suggested, Bella thought, that she should be able to lurk on the boundary-line in a dark, quiet corner without drawing the man's attention. Prewett was probably being its usual charming self, and therefore thoroughly distracting. She'd just wait until the man got frustrated enough to leave to ask Zee whether she should be rescued or not.

Though, she realised as soon as she approached near enough to make out the man's words and expressions, she might have trouble not drawing attention to herself by laughing.

"No," Zee said, presumably in answer to some question the man had just asked. "But I'm sure you'll tell me if I ask _very_ nicely."

The man scoffed at her. "Because you're a whore."

Zee pouted at him. "Did your Mistress tell you that? She's wrong, you know. I'm not a _whore_."

"Ain't no point denyin' it, we both know what you are."

"I very much doubt that."

" _Do_ you, now?" the man chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, then, missy, I guess it's up to me to do some explainin'. Not that you're like to take in a thing, head filled with so much filth there ain't no room for words of truth."

"Oh, go on, then. Tell me all about myself," Zee said, with a smirk Bella could hear in her tone. "And then I'll tell you about _you_."

"Oh-ho, well then. Aren't you the vain one? Lookin' for me to flatter you, now? Well, I hate to disappoint, little girl, but ain't nothin' to flatter. You think you're pretty and clever, think to make men want you, but I look at you and all I see is _filth_. You're dirty. Can't help it, maybe. Born that way — a soulless whore, born with that gaping maw wants to open up, suck out a man's marrow. You're weak, a slave to your body. Sorry to say, that's just the human condition. Feeding off each other's flesh like animals — _nauseating_. But with you it's more than that, ain't it, girlie? Under that cold, high-falutin' manner of yours, you want people to like you. Get all weepy when it comes out they don't. Ain't that right?"

"Your Mistress told you that, doesn't count."

"Countin' or not, take it to heart, girl. I despise you. You repulse me. You're a dirty whore, and when I'm done killin' your little friends, we'll see just how long it takes before you confess your sins to me. And then, well. You'll be absolved."

"Mmm, if you want to know about my sins, Father, all you have to do is _ask_. You won't, though. You don't really care about _me_. I'm just another dirty girl to you. Makes it rather difficult to take your disdain personally, to be honest. And I have to say, it seems to me _you're_ the one not listening, here — I'm _not_ a whore."

"No need to be ashamed, now. Denyin' it don't change the truth, girl."

"No, it doesn't. And what makes you think I'm ashamed? I'll own to being a debauched harlot and a soulless child of the Dark, and do so proudly. But I'm _not_ for sale. And I don't have to be pretty or clever to make you want me, do I? _Repulsion_ and _attraction_ are, after all, merely two sides of the same coin. Like _love_ and _loathing_... _humiliation_ and _arousal_... _fear_ and _exhilaration_. You can tell yourself all you like that I'm _dirty_ — _profane,_ even _forbidden_ perhaps — but the undeniable truth about _you_ is that you're afraid of your own animal urges. That you might be just as weak and easily influenced as any other man, in the hands of a dirty, _dirty_ girl."

He crossed the space between them in two steps to backhand Zee, knocking her out of her chair. "You don't know me, _whore_. I'm not afraid of a shameful little piece of trash like you. You got nothin' I want, you _disgust_ me."

Zee gave an amused little sniff. "That _will_ make it a bit difficult to follow through on your Mistress's promise to see me raped to death, won't it? If I enjoy it more than you do, does that even count? Be a gentleman — help me up," she demanded, extending an imperious hand.

He stared at it for a long moment, at _her_ , as though he couldn't understand what he was seeing, before jerking her churlishly to her feet and throwing her back into her chair.

"So kind," Zee murmured, wiping blood from the corner of her mouth. Her attention flitted over to an apparently empty spot to his left for a moment, before returning to him. Presumably something Hot Shite was saying or showing her. "Well, well, well, aren't _we_ a _naughty_ boy. And here I thought you godly people were more concerned with your rules than that. All that talk about shame and sin and _confession_. Murder comes before adultery on the list of forbidden indulgences, if I recall correctly." Zee's mother, though Bella tended to forget it, was muggleborn, her family Catholic. Zee's mum wasn't actually religious herself anymore, but she'd tried to drum some of their philosophy into Zee's head when she was younger, part of her parents' efforts to normalise her behaviour. To say she didn't have much respect for Abrahamic religion was a bit of an understatement. She didn't even really hold much interest in the Powers, or more accessible Aspects of Magic based on more polytheistic traditions. She was on passingly good terms with most of the gods Tom invoked regularly, and Eris liked her, obviously, but low ritual and blood magic were more her speed. "Though, I suppose if you're already worshipping a false god, you needn't feel guilty about breaking all those _lesser_ Commandments."

"My Master is not a god, false or otherwise," the man said stiffly. "It is far, far greater. You speak of sin, but you know nothing of it, little girl. You're a pitiful, detestable _child—_ "

"And here I thought I was a dirty whore, and all women born sinners in the image of our apocryphal _mum_ ," Zee said, rising to saunter toward the man. "Or have you changed your mind about that? How very _fickle_ and _inconstant_ of you. Ask your 'Master' what I know of sin, Caleb, darling," she suggested, her voice falling to a dark, intimate whisper. "I _revel_ in it." Her hand rose to alight on his chest, but he flinched away from her touch. Zee laughed. "All your victims, those pitiable, disgustingly _innocent_ little girls, they followed you willingly into the dark, didn't they? Big, strong, authoritative man like you, just plain done turned their silly little heads, made them fall prey to that original sin, that _curiosity_..." Bella smirked to herself as the cadence of her girlfriend's words shifted to more closely match that of the religion-themed misogynist.

She stepped in close, forcing him to back away, lest she press her entire body against him. His fingers closed around her neck — Bella was just on the verge of stepping in when he seemed to regain control of himself. Or maybe Prewett called him off. He _did_ look over to an apparently empty spot to Zee's left as he shoved her away from himself.

"Count yourself lucky, vile creature, that my Master has promised you'll live until tonight," he said, trying for his earlier bravado, but falling a bit short of it, Bella thought. In fact, if she had to guess, she'd say he sounded almost scared.

"Mmm, _vile creature_ , now we're getting somewhere," Zee noted, sounding all too pleased with herself. "If you change your mind about being beyond such worldly, human vices as a good...hard... _fuck_ —" She paused significantly, head tipping down ever so slightly, nodding toward the bulge in his trousers. "Well. Just remember, I don't need you to lead me into the dark. I'm already there, waiting. If you change your mind."

There were a few more exchanges between them before the thoroughly unnerved kidnapper fled, leaving his prisoner alone, but Bella couldn't make out exactly what was said — she had to retreat further into the shadows to be sure she wouldn't give herself away. Watching Zee seduce someone who didn't _want_ to want her was always hilarious.

"So, I'm guessing you don't actually need to be rescued?" she asked, when 'Caleb, darling' finally broke and ran.

There were finger-bruises encircling Zee's neck, and her face was beginning to swell where he'd backhanded her. Bella reached out with a spark of soulfire to heal her, but Zee stepped back, waving her off.

"He'll want to see his handiwork when he returns. And no, not yet. He is rather volatile, but Prewett seemingly keeps him on a short leash. I should be fine. If you want to actually show up to his little rendezvous tonight, I can probably get him worked up enough by then he'll actually be relieved to see me go. I don't think there are any more like him, just, you know, loads of those eyeless puppets. I'll know for sure if he sends someone else in to have a try intimidating me, rather than face me again himself."

"M'kay. I'll check in about half an hour before go-time."

"Better make it an hour, just to make sure there's an opportune moment. If it comes to it, I can demand a moment of privacy to use the toilet."

"Ah, yes, threaten him with potentially catching a glimpse of your gaping maw as you indulge in the disgustingly human sin of taking a shit." Zee's eyes narrowed at _gaping maw_ , but she snorted at the sin of shitting, so Bella was going to count that one as _funny_ , on the whole. (Sometimes her sense of humour was a little off, even with Zee.)

"You would probably enjoy him, actually. From what Prewett showed me, he favours disemboweling his victims, up close and personal. And he almost certainly gets off on the murders. Poor boy, tainting his extermination of the foulness inherent in humanity, the destruction of desire, with the stain of physical release. I wager he's positively _longing_ for someone to punish him, even if he doesn't realise it. And the fact that you fit his victim profile — adorable, innocent, young teenage girl — would make it sting even more sharply."

Bella snorted. "Innocent? Hardly."

"Bella, when it comes to sex, you're _shockingly_ innocent. Sure, you have experience, but when it comes to _desire_...? Love, I don't think I know anyone more apathetic about sex than you. _That's_ innocence, to him. Truly being above the base human urge of lust, rather than 'a slave to your body'."

Bella shrugged. They'd had that conversation before. The one where Zee was all, we don't have to have sex if you don't want to, and Bella explained that she didn't _mind_ having sex, she just didn't care enough to go out of her way to arrange it. Orgasms were fun, but not so much more fun than any other physical activity that she understood why people were so obsessive about them. She'd rather get into a really good fight or torture someone than have sex with them, generally speaking. (She would admit that sex made a good addition to fighting or torturing someone, she and Tom did that sort of thing kind of a lot, the sex just wasn't the main attraction.)

And then Zee had speculated that Bella was still basically pre-pubescent as a side-effect of the curse she'd used preemptively on herself to avoid menstruating and/or getting knocked up by her own father at the age of thirteen, and they'd gotten in an argument about whether Bella really still looked like a second-year (yes) and whether that was normal (given that she'd been nearly fifteen at the time, no). Tom had sided with Zee, so she'd spent the next three days teasing him about being a paedophile.

"I have my own lusts. Somehow, I doubt he'd be willing to indulge me, or that Hot Shite would let him, but I'm up for it if he is. In the meanwhile, though, I should get back and assure Buffy and Willow you're not suffering a fate worse than death or some shite. I'll be back in a few hours."

Zee grabbed her and pulled her in for a kiss before letting her slip back into the Shadows.

"She's fine," she announced, as she stepped out of them into the darkest corner of the Summers' front parlour. (Their entire house really was appallingly well-lit.)

"She's _fine_?" Buffy echoed. "Bella. She's been _kidnapped by agents of the First!_ "

"Well, yeah, but in this case, _agents_ means a single misogynistic serial killer with a religion fetish. Also known as the exact sort of arsehole she'd pick up at a bar to be the villain in one of hers and Tom's sex-plays. You know, she gets to act like a damsel in distress, he's the dashing hero, I get to play with the would-be villain while they make passionate love to the sound of his screaming and crying for mercy." And now everyone was giving her weird looks. Quite possibly, _that's so incredibly fucked up I have no words_ looks, but Bella was kind of bad at interpreting expressions on people she didn't already know fairly well. She sighed. "She's fine."

"Are you sure? I mean, you talked to her?" Willow asked, all anxious and concerned.

"Yes. She's not in any immediate need of rescuing, though we probably should spring that little trap they're preparing, just to get this bloke's measure. Seems to be Hot Shite's primary acolyte, he's probably going to be the one we deal with most directly in attempting to foil its plans. Besides, I think Prewett's feeling a bit neglected. Wouldn't want it to get bored with the game, would we?" she suggested cheerfully, to more _that's so incredibly fucked up_ looks.

This was the actual reason they needed to rescue Zee — if she wasn't here, _Bella_ had to deal with the normal people herself, and that _never_ went well.


	30. It Never Rains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/2 today

Bellatrix sneered at Kennedy, giving a condescending scoff. "Are you fucking stupid, Number Three? You want your girls blooded, fine, I get that, but taking more trainees than half-decent fighters is just _asking_ for the incompetent children to get themselves killed."

"And waiting until we have Bringers and Ubervamps knocking down the door to get them any hands-on experience _isn't_? Which one of us is the fucking idiot, here?"

"How many Bringers did Mira say there were?" Buffy asked, apparently rhetorically. "We could give them crossbows and have them guard our backs."

A phone rang, cutting off the shadow demon's objection to what seemed a reasonable suggestion to Rupert. It took a couple more rings for him to realise that it was his. He didn't recognise the number.

"Sorry, girls, one moment. Hello?"

"Giles? Rupert Giles?"

"This is he. May I ask who's—"

"Oh, thank _God!_ My name's Alvin. I'm with the New Order of the Compass Rose, based in Cleveland— Shit! Cameron! Emily! Can you hold the— Never mind! Run!" The caller was briefly cut off by the sound of what sounded like a bloody building collapsing as he and his comrades apparently fled. Swearing. Panting. A car door slamming. More swearing.

"The Order of the Compass Rose?" Buffy asked, raising an eyebrow at Rupert. He wasn't surprised she'd overheard, the young man had been shouting loudly enough...

"They're an international fraternity which grew out of a mariners' navigational guild of sorts. The original Order was largely concerned with charting portals and providing direction to interdimensional travellers. The New Order was established in the wake of the debacle at the Eighteen Eighty-Three World's Fair to attempt to regulate interdimensional travel and enforce certain ground rules. Like _no kidnapping Nikola Tesla_."

"Who kidnapped Tesla?" Xander asked. "And _why?_ "

Before Rupert could explain what he knew of the fiasco, Alvin returned to the line. "Shut up, Cam, I'm on the fucking phone! Sorry, Giles? Still there?"

"Ah, yes, Alvin, was it?"

"Yes, Alvin Peters. We got your number from the Operator, up in Escanaba?"

Somewhat surprising, but not entirely so. Rupert hadn't given his number to the woman who functioned as a general coordinator for many of the more... _unofficial_ supernatural defense groups for the better part of the eastern half of the United States and Canada — he'd never spoken to her directly, in fact. She was a bit of a recluse, one of those people who decided to contact _you_ , and she was known to rather despise the Council — but her informal network of informants was incredibly wide-reaching. Any of the various individuals he had contacted regarding their Turok Han problem and in seeking information about the First could easily know someone who knew someone, as it were, and passed it on.

"And you said you're in Cleveland? Hold on a moment, I'm putting you on speaker. Er, Willow..."

The witch rolled her eyes at him, but took the phone, setting it in the middle of the table a moment later. "Go ahead, Alvin."

"Er, hi?"

"I assume this isn't precisely a social call?" Rupert prompted him.

"Ah, no. Not exactly. More of a begging for help call. We're dying over here, man. We've lost half the Order in the past week, some undead wizard—"

"Lich, Al! It's a lich!" someone shouted on his end of the line.

"Eyes on the fucking road, Em!" That must be Cameron. Their voice was as ambiguous as their name, but they sounded significantly younger than Alvin or Emily, who didn't sound particularly mature themselves. Not for the first time, Rupert found himself regretting that it had come to this — enlisting bloody _children_ , for God's sake...

"Right, there's this _lich_ , it's raising a fucking army, Giles — zombies fucking everywhere — and we're so _incredibly_ fucked. If there's _anyone_ you can spare—"

"We're not in such a good spot ourselves at the moment, I'm afraid."

"You shouldn't have led with— Give me the damn phone!" the same woman who'd told their mysterious caller that their villain was a lich demanded.

"No, you _drive_ ," the young man snapped. "Giles, I'm going to be as honest as I possibly can, here. If we don't get some help over here, our Seal is going to fail. We're talking weeks, here, if not _days_. I know you've got your own hellmouth out there and rains of fire in Los Angeles, believe me, I wouldn't be calling you if I had other options, but everyone between us and you I've been able to reach is out of commission or in the middle of their own apocalypse-level shit-storm.

"Chicago's being threatened by what they're describing as basically the unholy spawn of Godzilla and a goddamned kraken, just crawled out of Lake Michigan one day. Pittsburgh and New York just had major demonic uprisings, managed to get shit under control with minimal casualties and public awareness, but they've barely got three fighters left standing between them. Tucson didn't pick up. The Eastern Star lady in Denver said rumour has it no one's heard from them in over a month. They're dealing with a magical plague or some fuck all over Colorado. My friend in Atlanta had to flee the city, there's a fucking _witch hunt_ going down there, they're lynching people in the goddamn streets."

He paused to breathe, giving Buffy a chance to say, "Holy _crap_. Maybe Anya was right..."

"That's nothing, sweetheart. Austin's a complete shit-show, got ghosts possessing people and reenacting the goddamn Alamo _and_ a new hellmouth someone tried to open down in Corpus, they had to call in some Mexican team to handle that. Toronto, no answer. Quebec, no answer. Montreal, moose. The entire fucking town is under siege, by fucking _moose_. And bears, apparently, but mostly moose. Fucking _Canada_ , man. The Orlando Ghostbusters were dealing with some voo-doo queen down in New Orleans, not too out of the ordinary, no problem, they handled it, but then they sent most of their people to Miami, and they fucking _disappeared_ over a week ago.

"I even called _Miskatonic_ , and _they_ didn't answer! Anderson in New York says they might not be in our dimension at the moment. The whole valley is on lockdown, like, weird shimmery forcefield and all."

"You guys have a Miskatonic here? Neat! Also, _how_?"

No one knew, honestly. It had just _appeared_ one day, always having been there in the minds of the locals, but never mentioned in any text published before Eighteen Fifty-Two. Its long-established existence _was_ referenced in texts published _after_ that date, there was clearly some cross-dimensional interference going on, but exactly how that interference had developed...

"Is this really the time for that question, Bella?" Xander chided the demon.

"Wow," Willow said, just staring at the phone in shock. "Kinda makes our little hell portal, uber-vamp army problem seem...less terrify-y."

" _Uber-vamps?_ Does that mean what I think it means?"

"Probably not," the shadow-demon informed the caller. "I call them Fiends. They're not really very vampiric. Like, at all. Also, they're not that hard to kill. I mean, harder than humans, but not like, _lich_ difficult. Well, unless you've already got its phylactery, I guess, in which case, lich, human, fiend."

"Bellatrix, do shut up," Rupert sighed.

"Um, yeah, we don't have the whatsit."

" _Phylactery_ , Alvin!" the woman snapped. "Cam, you drive, Al, give me the goddamn phone." There was a moment of multiple car doors opening and slamming closed again, and then, "Sorry about that. Alvin might be a bit _slow_ —" ("HEY!") "—but his assessment of the situation is accurate. It's dire. If you've got anyone you can send, send them. If not, we'll take any numbers you've got for anyone _else_ who might be able to help. Actually, if you have anyone else's numbers, give them to us anyway. Your fucking Council getting themselves blown up really fucked the rest of us over in the communications department."

Didn't Rupert know it. "The only numbers I had for anyone you haven't already contacted were for Quinn in New York—" New York City was home to multiple teams of demon-hunters which ranged in professionalism from international bounty-hunters to essentially street-gangs. Quinn and Anderson were the leaders of two of the larger, better-known quasi-professional teams. "—and the Western Watch up in Portland. Quinn's has been disconnected, and the Watch has deployed to Calgary. They seem to have wendigos."

"Wendigos, _plural_? Jesus _Christ_..."

"Hunting in a pack, it's _bizarre_. And also makes them exponentially more difficult to kill, as you might imagine. The Devon Coven has been coordinating efforts as best they can on a global scale..."

"No go, talked to them yesterday. Er...early this morning? Whatever, they don't do necromancers, apparently. Kathleen didn't say why." Because necromancy was the sort of magic only the most powerful and ruthless of sorcerers attempted, and Kathy didn't want her pacifistic sisterhood of white witches bloody well _slaughtered_ , Rupert imagined. "Not that it matters, by the time they managed to _get_ here, we'd probably be dead. Shame, we could _really_ use a witch or two. I'll take anyone who can point a shotgun, though."

"I can go," Willow volunteered herself, apparently impulsively.

"Willow!" Kennedy objected. "You _did_ hear them say they've lost like, _half_ their people?"

" _And_ I heard them say that they're gonna lose the rest of them in the next couple of days unless someone gets their butts over there to help! And I'm pretty sure Alvin implied they have a hellmouth of their own that's gonna blow? Sounds kinda major, don'tcha think? You all don't need me here, or at least, you can hold down the fort for a few days without any big magics, right?"

She was looking at Buffy, but it was Bella who shrugged, nodded. "Sure. Hot Shite doesn't seem to have any mages in sway at the moment, and they're not getting the portal open any time soon, so, yeah, I think we'll be fine."

Buffy glared at her, adding, "Yeah, holding pattern initiated, Will. No biggie."

"Are you sure, Will?" Xander asked, drumming troubled fingertips on the table. "You really want to tangle with a _necromancer_? An _undead_ necromancer?"

"Do I _want_ to? No. But I'm not seeing a lot of options, here. Are you? Besides, necromancy's not _that_ scary."

The shadow-demon snorted. "Not if you're on first-name terms with Osiris, at least. If you can tag it with a soul-magic-based tracking spell and destroy its current vessel, it should lead you straight to the phylactery. Burn it or sanctify it, any sort of purification ritual should work, and the lich's done for. If it's anything like lichs in my world, its minions will fall when it does." Rupert nodded. That fit with what he knew of the vile, corrupted sorcerers. "Who are you taking with you?"

Willow startled. "Huh?"

"Well, I can't go, not when we're finally getting a response from Hot Shite, and this is Buffy's home territory, she really shouldn't leave, either. But you'll want at least a couple decent fighters to watch your back and fight off revenants while you throw down with the lich. Kennedy?"

Kennedy nodded. "I'm not letting her go alone."

"Who else?"

"Er..."

"You need at _least_ one more. No offence, Cleveland, but I don't think we trust you?"

Emily, on the other end of the line, snorted. "None taken. If you guys send us three decent fighters, one of whom can actually use magic for half a damn, you can mistrust us as much as you want."

"I'll go," Rupert said, at the same moment as Xander, who turned to him in surprise.

"Are you sure, Giles? I mean," he dropped his voice, presumably attempting to avoid alarming the callers. "If Will loses it and goes all, you know..."

Yes, that _was_ a concern...

Unfortunately, Rupert wasn't seeing any other viable options, either. Given that the situation here _was_ apparently largely under control — Cordelia had made it clear that Los Angeles was not their problem when Rupert had seen the report on the news and called to find out precisely what was going on down there — they couldn't reasonably refuse aid to the beleaguered Clevelanders.

"You can both go," Buffy said shortly. "We'll handle things here. Just...make sure you all come back, okay? And sooner rather than later, if you can."

"How fast can you get here?"

"Ah... That's what? A four hour flight? Five?" Rupert asked.

Willow typed something on her computer, clicked a couple of times, then said, "Four and a half. There's a non-stop out of L.A.X. in three hours. If we leave now, we can be on the ground before nightfall. Book it?" Rupert nodded, digging the Council bank card he'd been using out of his wallet. "I need a credit— Thanks."

"No, thank _you_ ," Emily said over whoops and cheers from her comrades, her relief almost palpable. "Thank _God_. Eight hours. We can do that. Call us when you're wheels-down, we'll meet you at the airport."

Right. Apparently they were going to Cleveland.


	31. Making a Deal with the Devil

"What are you doing?"

Tom stopped in his tracks, turned slowly to face the young woman who had been lurking behind a glowing computer screen. He'd thought her completely absorbed in her arithmancy or whatever research she was doing, but it seemed she was not. "Do you _really_ want to know the answer to that question, Miss Burkle?"

Her eyes flicked over to the enthralled girl who had followed him obediently back to the hotel from the shopping centre she'd been frequenting with two entirely self-absorbed "friends". They hadn't even noticed her slip away in the crowds — _without_ Tom's intervention to distract them from her disappearance. "Probably not. Tell me anyway."

 _Hmm_...

"You're an intelligent, logical, well-educated young woman, Miss Burkle. I presume you are familiar with the concept of the Switchman's Dilemma?"

"Er..."

Damn, it was probably called something else, here and now. "There is a choice to be made, to sacrifice one individual in order to save many. It lies in your hands."

"Oh, the Trolley Problem." She nodded.

Oh, good. "So you are familiar with the dilemma. And I presume you believe you would throw the switch, if placed in the unenviable position of being forced to choose whether to divert the train? Especially considering that the sacrifice in question is no one to you." In the original thought experiment, the sacrifice was an individual personally dear to the Switchman.

Miss Burkle frowned. "Well, an argument can be made that inaction is also a choice, so one would _hypothetically_ be just as responsible for multiple deaths as a result of inaction, as one due directly to taking action..." She hesitated, eyes flicking over to the girl's lovely, serene features. She wasn't particularly aware of anything going on around her at the moment, up to and including the entirely unhypothetical discussion of the ethical merits of her death. "What are you saying, Mister Riddle?"

"If, _hypothetically_ , one were forced to choose between two courses of action, one of which appeared to lead inevitably to the enthrallment of the entire world, and one of which required the death of a single innocent, but prevented the enthrallment of the entire world, which do you think would be the ethically correct course of action?"

Her eyes narrowed. " _Hypothetically_ , you're a smart man, Mister Riddle. The one course only _seems_ to lead to enthrallment. And anyway, Angel said he'll kill Cordelia before she...spawns, if we can't find some way to save her. What's wrong with _that_ course of action?"

"An argument could be made that delaying the question of whether and how to achieve a permanent solution to a problem is functionally interchangeable with achieving such a solution, if the delay is sufficiently lasting. Cowardly, perhaps, putting off the responsibility for another generation to address, but _functionally_ similar. Unfortunately, what seems like a very long, entirely sufficient span of time as to be interchangeable with eternity from the perspective of short-lived mortals such as ourselves — a few centuries, perhaps even a millennium — is in fact laughably brief in the eyes of beings such as the Senior Partners, the Powers That Be, and _Magic Itself_.

"And make no mistake, disembodying Luz _would_ be only that. A setback, and a significant one, but not insurmountable. The Senior Partners might be convinced that such ought to be considered to meet the terms of my contract. I am, after all, only human. But Hecate and the Lady are more familiar with my abilities, and I would _hate_ to disappoint them. It never does to underperform a task set by a goddess from whom you may one day need to beg a boon. One little human life, in exchange for a binding vow on the part of the Devourer to neither devour nor enthrall humanity, diverting its energies toward less objectionable methods of achieving world peace, seems a worthy trade to me." Of course, the ethicality of it didn't particularly matter to _him_ , but it would to Luz. Though she would see it as one life here and now, for all the lives she would be able to save in the centuries she _didn't_ spend arranging to re-embody herself _again_.

"Uh-huh. And _how_ , exactly, are you going to do that?"

"Luz's pregnancy will come to term within the next two weeks, providing her with a vessel from which she can exercise her true powers, becoming nearly unstoppable. If you cannot find some way to exorcise her before then — on the _exceedingly_ thin chance that there is a Cordelia Chase left to save — you, or rather Angel, will be forced to kill her, for the sake of the free will of humanity. Every day you delay is another day which Luz might use to escape, to run and hide until her new vessel is delivered, and thus avoid even the setback of being disembodied.

"I currently have her convinced that the chances of a successful escape are far lower than they actually are—" A pretense helped immensely by the fact that another of Luz's demonic followers had attempted to stage a rescue, only to be dispatched by Angel and Miss Lehane, and the misleading impression Tom had given that he could not overcome the protective amulets the locals had enchanted without establishing a physical bond between himself and anyone he wished to influence first. "—and that the only possible chance of success lies in somehow accelerating her pregnancy — which _can_ be done — thus stealing a march on Angel. I _also_ have her largely convinced that, if she persists in executing her original plan, any peace she achieves will be fragile, costly, and impossible to maintain. The alternative strategy I've suggested, however, is almost certainly bound to be exceedingly frustrating for her. It is likely that if she escapes and attempts to pursue that strategy, she will quickly give up and revert to forcible pacification."

"None of this explains why you want to..."

Tom sighed. Was that not obvious? "The girl is necessary to the ritual to accelerate the pregnancy. We intend to feed her vitality to the developing vessel. In exchange for my assistance in this matter, Luz will promise not to forcibly subdue anyone. And to assure that she abides by the vow, I will be tying it to the girl's sacrifice, in such a way that to break her word is to instantly disembody herself. Poisoning her vessel, in a sense — introducing a fatal flaw to its fundamental makeup. I dare say that however frustrating she may find any particular setback, she will consider it even _more_ frustrating to go back to being disembodied and start over, if given any other option. Immortal magical consciousnesses are just as vulnerable to the sunk cost fallacy as any human. More so, perhaps, given that they are entirely unaccustomed, for the most part, to meeting any resistance to their efforts. Gods can be shockingly impatient, for beings with an eternity to execute their plots."

"So...you're going to feed her to the monster like– like a poisoned steak, or something."

Miss Burkle did not seem impressed by Tom's plan. Which, honestly? That was absurd. This plan held the potential for a better outcome than he could possibly have anticipated before Luz made the mistake of revealing her pregnancy to him. "Yes."

Miss Burkle fell back in her chair, still watching him with an expression of abject ambivalence. Clearly she realised that this _was_ an effective solution to the problem of Luz's existence, but she didn't actually want to condone human sacrifice. "No, I don't think I did want to know the answer to that question," she muttered.

"If you'd rather forget you were ever asked to flip the switch, you need only take off that bloody amulet," Tom suggested. "It _does_ tend to be much easier to live with difficult ethical decisions when one remains ignorant of their existence."

Though pretending you hadn't noticed the impending deaths of one or more idiots on the train tracks because you were in the loo or on your lunch break or whatever apparently wasn't a valid answer to the hypothetical question — John McKinnon, Tom's one-time Divination professor and Mira's _official_ mind-healer, had reportedly been amusingly unamused when she suggested that solution to the dilemma. Her rationale had been that regardless of whether she flipped the switch or not, _someone_ would inevitably blame her for whoever died. The only winning move was not to play, and blame whoever was responsible for the idiots being on the tracks for the horrible tragedy that ensued. (Bellatrix, in contrast, had asked who the people were, and then insisted that it was perfectly right, reasonable, and ethical to save one of her younger sisters over any number of other people not of her House, though that wasn't exactly a surprise.)

Miss Burkle glared at him. "I'm not going to let you make me forget!" She hesitated, troubled eyes flicking over to the girl yet again. "But I... I won't tell Angel and Wes to stop you, either."

How very unexpected. He'd anticipated a much longer, far more tedious argument. "Cheers."

He turned to go, only to be called back. "It's just—"

"Yes, Miss Burkle?"

"Do it humanely. Please. Don't... Make sure she doesn't suffer."

Tom chuckled. "I shouldn't worry about that. _I_ might like to see her die in agony, but Luz despises suffering. I don't imagine the girl will feel a thing."

The ritual, such as it was, was incredibly simple. Such things tended to be, honestly, under all the showmanship and window-dressing, but this even more so than most. If Luz's vessel weren't currently trapped inside the body of Cordelia Chase, it wouldn't be necessary at all. Subsuming the life of a conscious being was essentially the Devourer's most basic function — requiring a ritual to do so would be akin to a human requiring a ritual to drink a glass of water. Cordelia Chase, however, complicated the matter.

Not only did Luz need to circumvent her own human flesh to facilitate a connection between the unborn vessel and the girl, but the energy of the sacrifice's life needed to be stripped from her body before the unborn vessel could absorb it properly. If Tom had to compare it to something within his own experience, he would say the difference was akin to that between participating in the Blacks' Yule ritual — not that he had, he'd simply relived Bella's memories of the thing — and subsuming a soul directly. Or, in a more mundane metaphor, juicing an orange, rather than eating the segments.

In any case, it was low ritual, and the greatest part of it, detailing her intent, fell to Luz. No other Powers were intended to be involved, which meant the most difficult part of the whole thing was introducing his condition to the sacrifice without Luz noticing. Or at least, without her noticing before they were too far along to _stop_. Fortunately, he did have a part to play directly. Specifically the _actually killing the sacrifice_ part, and dedicating her death to Luz. Old-fashioned worship, that.

"Ooh, she's _beautiful_ ," Luz gasped, as he escorted the girl into her quarters. "Well _done_ , Tom."

She was. Warm brown eyes, soft chestnut curls left unbound to sweep her shoulders, high cheekbones and darkly tanned skin, with a few slightly lighter lines around the neckline of her blouse from a summer full of carefree days spent on a beach somewhere. Athletic and fit, but not to a degree which sacrificed her youthful, feminine curves. Young — barely sixteen — and radiant with the innocent enthusiasm of a girl on the cusp of womanhood, eager to embrace life and all it might have to offer her.

It had been suggested to Tom before, by people who were not ritualists (usually students), that perhaps ritual sacrifices would be socially acceptable if they were to use the terminally ill and decrepit, or morally reprehensible individuals whom society wouldn't miss. This had always seemed utterly ridiculous to him. For an Aspect, any deity or Power, to subsume a human life or body or soul was an act of love, taking the sacrifice and making it a part of themselves. There _were_ Aspects which loved morally reprehensible individuals, or the ugly, elderly, and variously corrupted, of course. Angel had mentioned more than once that she would dearly love to consume _Tom's_ soul, sick, twisted thing that it was. (She wouldn't, he was still _using_ it, and to gratifying effect, but she did still consider him _hers_ — it was only natural she wanted to make him a part of herself forever.)

Most of them, though, found the same traits appealing that the vast majority of humanity did. Youth. Beauty. Health, both physical and psychological. Vivacious energy. Intelligence and wit. It didn't hurt to find a sacrifice whose soul resonated with the Aspect, as well. Most of them didn't want their actual worshippers sacrificed (tended to make it a bit difficult to build up any sort of cult if you kept killing them off), but they did like seeing themselves reflected in some part in the mortal beings they intended to make a part of themselves.

Luz was no exception.

"Her name's Clara." She was at the top of her class, a good girl from a good family. She had never smoked so much as tobacco or consumed alcohol, barely ever tasted coffee and avoided caffeinated sodas. She attended church every Sunday, there was a little golden cross dangling around her neck at this very moment; was unfalteringly obedient to her parents; and volunteered at a charity which taught homeless children to read on weekends. The strongest explicative she'd ever uttered was _shit_ — _once_. She'd once kissed a boy, but broke it off with him because he'd made her _think impure thoughts_. Which was presumably problematic because she was about as pure-minded a teenager as Tom had ever met.

She was also perhaps the most willing and eager to contribute to society as a whole. She genuinely believed that humanity was _fundamentally good_ , and no human soul was beyond redemption, just like she'd been taught in Sunday school when she was five.

Honestly, Tom found her somewhat off-putting. It was a bit like looking at a version of Bellatrix raised by bloody _nuns_ or some shite. For all she could be a contrary little bint, Bella did have a tendency to simply accept whatever she was told at face value, especially when she'd been younger — if someone had told her when she was small that bloody _sainthood_ was the ideal she ought to strive for, rather than the example set by the Blacks' more notorious legendary ancestors, Tom could easily imagine her having turned out like Clara. It was uncanny, and rather disconcerting, really. (Coming into contact with her mind made his fingers itch for a knife.)

She was, he thought, exactly the sort of human an Aspect like Luz would _adore_.

" _Clara_..." She came closer, trailing a finger down one cheek. "Your life is so much more important than you ever imagined, or will ever know..." she whispered.

The girl didn't hear her. Not really. She was only semi-conscious at the moment — sleepwalking, because Tom had no interest in being close enough to her mind to properly possess her.

"Shall we begin, my Lady? Miss Burkle spotted me on the way in — I did convince her that this is in the interest of the greater good, but I shouldn't like to trust that her conscience won't get the better of her if we wait too long."

Luz nodded, stripping off her blouse to bare her already obviously pregnant belly, taking her place at the centre of a large circle of candles. They'd had to stand the coffee table on one end over in the corner to have enough floor space, and Tom wasn't familiar with the runes she'd chalked around the perimeter — different worlds would have different ritual traditions, he supposed. Oddly, there was no specific place _Clara_ was meant to be, and he was to bring her blood to the vessel, across the boundary of the circle, which rather called into question why they were using a circle in the first place, but it was hardly important, he supposed. If Luz believed it necessary, he wasn't going to argue the point.

"You wanted her death to come slowly, yes?"

The Aspect wavered. "As long as there's still some spark of life in her when her blood becomes one with the vessel. It needn't be particularly slow. In fact, the ritual cannot be completed until her body releases the last of its hold on her life, so...not _too_ slowly. Just not instantaneously."

Tom nodded. "And we are agreed that in exchange for my assistance today, you will restrict your methods of pacification, as we discussed?"

"Yes, yes, I already promised, didn't I?"

She _hadn't_ , actually. Or rather, she'd promised to _try_ , but very carefully failed to commit to his plan in the long term. If she _had_ promised to restrict herself, he— Well, he'd probably still want _some_ guarantee, but it wouldn't be nearly so important as he considered it under the present circumstances.

"Very well." He traced a rune of his own on the girl's forearms with a muggle pen before sending her to sit on the sofa, an industrial-sized mixing bowl appropriated from the kitchens cradled in her lap, and nudging her mind into a deep, dreamless sleep. _Flow_ , to ensure that the deep longitudinal cuts he used to sever her radial arteries would continue to bleed until her heart ceased to beat. About two minutes, he expected, though there was more than enough blood in the bowl to complete the ritual within a matter of seconds.

He coated his right hand with it, hot and thin, coming to kneel beside the body of Cordelia Chase. Luz began to chant the incantation which detailed her intent — in a language no more familiar to Tom than the runes surrounding them — tossing and turning as though in pain. She had mentioned that there might be some labour-like physical effects, though the vessel would not technically be _born_ in the traditional manner — a fact which Tom had been slightly relieved to hear, given that he was _hardly_ a qualified midwife. Death, the _end_ of a being's life, he was intimately familiar with. Its _beginning_...not so much.

"Now— Do it now!"

"I dedicate this life to my Lady's cause."

Luz took a deep breath, holding it in anticipation of his completing his part, of the ritual reaching its turning point. Unfortunately, Tom had a few more words to say, first.

"Let it become the foundation of her true vessel, the foundation of a new world of peace and order — built by _choice_ , that it may be a _lasting_ peace."

"Tom..."

Tom ignored the suspicion and anger rising in her tone, pressing on. "Let any attempt to undermine the principles of the methods we have agreed upon today to achieve the ideals we share undermine the foundation of the vessel."

"What are you doing? This isn't part of the ritual, Tom!"

It was now — he could feel the magic around them twisting to accommodate his demand as well as hers.

She could, too. She sat up, trying to scoot away from him toward the edge of the circle, but she was wracked by another wave of pain. It was a simple matter for Tom to twist his unbloodied hand in her hair, pulling her back to the floor, pinning her in place and ignoring her futile attempts to beat him off.

He looked down into her furious, frightened eyes, and smiled as he completed his malediction. It really was something, getting the better of a god like this — even if she was a rather small, isolated, credulous god. "Let this life, the soul of Clara Resendiz, the heart of her true vessel, the rock upon which all else shall be built, crumble and rot, let it fade from her grasp along with all my Lady has accomplished, should she compromise her ideals or our agreement in order to achieve her paradise."

"You wouldn't _dare_ —"

He pressed his hand to her distended abdomen before she could finish delivering a threat even _she_ didn't believe — because _of course_ he dared. The ritual was well under way. Even if she dearly wanted to smite him for his impertinence, daring to curse _her_ , of all beings — and with an insidious tynged such as this, at that, integrated into the very heart of her being by her own ritual — she would still be bound by it. Resorting to violence to retaliate, furthering _conflict_ , simply for her own gratification, would be compromising her ideals.

The blood sank through Cordelia's flesh, despite her protests— "No, _damn_ you, Tom! No! I– I did not agree to—" —drawing forth a pained groan as the apparent physical discomfort intensified, the earth several stories down and the very air around them shuddering with the effort of bringing forth her vessel as well, it seemed.

"You agreed to our compromise. Think of this little curse as...incentive to resist the temptation to _cheat_ , when you discover that the rest of humanity has the capacity to be as just as infuriatingly contrary and unbiddable as myself."

" _Ungh..._ I hate you, Tom Riddle!"

"I get that a lot," he informed her, aiming for a conciliatory tone. (It might have edged into _smug_ , but, well...she was a _god_.)

Before she could respond (beyond another moan), the door slammed open, revealing Angel — armed with a bloody sword, because of _course_ he was. Tom could just make out Miss Burkle behind him with her crossbow, though he could feel at least two other shrouded minds out in the corridor as well. Wyndam-Pryce and Lorne, probably. They'd been on guard duty when he and Luz had begun their ritual. Tom had slipped a soporific into their soup at lunch in order to ensure they failed to notice his illicit entry with a sacrifice in tow, but there _did_ seem to be a bloody earthquake going on, he wasn't surprised they'd woken up.

"It's not what it looks like," Tom said drily, with absolutely _no_ hope that they would believe him. There was a nearly-dead teenage girl bleeding out on the sofa; Luz was lying in the middle of a circle of candles and runes chalked into the carpet, apparently in labour, her pregnancy reaching its full term before their very eyes; and Tom was _literally_ red-handed at the moment. Not to mention, earthquake.

That they were in the midst of some ritual was patently obvious, and its purpose was hardly a stretch to guess.

"Give me one reason not to run you through _right_ now, Riddle," the vampire growled, stalking into the room. Miss Burkle entered behind him, her weapon trained on Cordelia's heart, though her hands were trembling. Tom rather doubted she had it in her to take the shot.

"Are you familiar with the Switchman's Dilemma?" he asked, rising to his feet, careful not to make any sudden movements. "Or perhaps the Trolley Problem?"

Luz moaned. "Shut up, Tom — just _finish_ it!"

Poor Clara couldn't have much more left in her, Tom suspected that it would be over in a few seconds, anyway — half a minute, at most — hence his delaying tactics, but it would take only a fraction of that time for Angel to overpower him and decapitate Cordelia Chase.

_Apologies, Miss Burkle, but I'm afraid I'm going to need to borrow you for a moment..._

The amulets the locals had enchanted to keep him from casually invading their minds and subtly manipulating their thoughts were damnably effective...so long as he was trying to avoid drawing attention to himself. At this point, however, subtlety was hardly a priority. He might have overdone it slightly, in fact, pressing the compulsion on the young woman to kill the girl far more strongly than necessary to ensure that it would overwhelm the protections — her crossbow jerked up, aim shifting from Cordelia's heart to Clara's, the shaft springing across the space between them quicker than the eye could follow.

Miss Burkle gasped, staggering and catching herself against the nearest wall, throwing her weapon away from herself in disgust, but Tom suspected he was the only one who noticed, preoccupied as the others were by the column of light which erupted from Cordelia Chase's abdomen.

It sounded...squishy, this whole _birthing_ process, though there was nothing obviously fleshy going on in the midst of the light. He squinted into it, just able to make out what might have been tentacles — eldritch creatures' vessels _did_ tend toward amoeboid or cnidarian forms — as the light intensified. For a long moment it was _painfully_ bright, but then it began to condense, creating a humanoid shell for itself — a beautiful, dark-skinned woman in her early twenties.

A beautiful, _furious_ woman.

Angel made as though to raise his sword. She stopped him with a glare, the weight of her magical presence surrounding them and bearing down, suppressing any desire to cause harm. "Angel. You don't want to hurt me."

"I... No." He sounded confused, as though he'd quite forgotten what he was on about. "You're... You're _beautiful_..."

 _Of course she is, she's a_ goddess _..._ Honestly, that she would choose to present herself as anything _other_ than perfection incarnate would be _far_ more of a surprise.

"Lady Luz." Tom gave her a small bow. "Welcome to the mortal plane." Her anger only intensified as Tom drew her attention to himself. She stalked nearer to him, rigid with fury. He held his ground. "Do recall, my Lady, that to exact vengeance in retaliation for a perceived insult or harm is not justice, but the furthering of conflict — your words."

His little reminder did give her pause, stopped her from killing him where he stood, perhaps, but it didn't stop her from smacking him sharply across the face for the second time in their brief association. It hurt a hell of a lot more this time — the force of it knocked him to the ground. Apparently her new vessel was a bit stronger than the average human woman. " _Why_ , Tom?!" she demanded, looming over him. "Why would you— I _gave you my word!_ "

"In point of fact, you did not. You very gracefully avoided doing so on multiple occasions, agreed that I had a point about the potential differences in the long-term efficacy of our approaches, agreed to _try_ things my way, but gave no guarantees that you would continue to further such an attempt in the face of any resistance to speak of. Consider this that guarantee."

"You– You _betrayed_ me!"

Oh. Oh, that was _odd_. Odd and _unpleasant_. The stirrings of guilt, anxiety and regret her words prompted _felt_ as though they were his — arising within his own psyche — rather than the result of some outside interference. He knew they weren't, he had never felt such emotions in a direct, visceral way like this, but... It was _almost_ like legilimising Mirabella, he thought, the way her uncertainty and fears made an impression, briefly shaking his self-confidence, making him _doubt himself_. But where uncertainty could be a bit _thrilling_ , in a chaotic, slightly-out-of-control way, this was just...sickening, almost. He didn't even enjoy guilt and regret when _someone else_ was feeling them. He pushed the emotional reaction away from his awareness, walled it off.

"I did no such thing!" he said sharply, perhaps a bit more openly annoyed than was wise, but she _had_ just tried to make him _feel guilt_ over his perfectly reasonable actions. "I have never claimed that my loyalties lie with you, my Lady, only my sympathies — and in any case, I have every confidence in your ability to prevail as thoroughly by the means we discussed as you might have done had you continued with your original plan. It will certainly take longer and require more effort on your part, but those whose interests I _am_ honour-bound to serve will not object to or act to thwart a more subtle approach, and working within the limitations set by the nature of humanity ensures that your peace — your _new world order_ — will be sustainable in the long term! If you truly intended to keep your ungiven word, then my little tynged is of no consequence. If you suspected, as I did, that you might _try_ it my way, but quickly lose patience and return to the methods which worked _so_ well in your last universe, well. As I said: consider this incentive to _keep trying_."

"You would attempt to force _limits_ on a _god?!_ Reckless, overconfident mortal— You forget your place!"

"Oh, _please_ ," he scoffed, pulling himself to his feet again, careful to remain out of arm's reach of the angry goddess. "I'm here on behalf of Fate and Fortune — _What Is_ and _What May Be_ , I believe you call them in this plane — and Death Itself — _the Eternal All_. Compared to _them_ , _you_ are an overconfident _child_. And children _need_ limits, lest they unintentionally burn the bloody house down. I've done you a favour, here, you know."

" _Ha!_ Some _favour_ , you—" She cut herself off, apparently unable to think of an epithet foul enough for him.

"I could've just killed Cordelia Chase, forced you back out of the plane. Instead, I'm giving you a choice — follow the path you agreed to try and do what good you may without succumbing to the temptation to simply crush the will and individuality of humanity, or disembody yourself and use whatever methods you please the next time you manage to claw your way back here. Bear in mind, however, that Sisyphus never _does_ get that bloody boulder to the top of the mountain, and the other Powers _delight_ in your eternal frustration."

"You didn't have to kill me or cripple me, you could have helped me! You had a choice, and you _chose_ to betray me, you– you _untrustworthy bastard!_ I _trusted_ you, and you– you made me think you trusted _me_ , and then you betrayed me!"

 _Tom Riddle, pleased to meet you at long last, my Lady..._ "I _am_ helping you, my Lady. _Luz_. You will never be allowed to succeed in pacifying this universe by brute force. You simply _won't_. I believe in your cause. I truly do. I am helping you find and keep to a path to reach your goal which will _not_ prompt the other Powers to subvert your efforts, turn all those noble sacrifices you've made or would make into pointless pain and death. You don't want that. I know you don't. You're _better_ than that."

"I— You– You're twisting it all around!" she complained, with the audacity to sound _indignant_ about it. "Of course I don't want— This isn't about _me_! It's about _you_! Tainting my vessel! Trying to weaken me, making me vulnerable!"

"Luz..."

"Don't call me that!"

"My Lady, you're being ridiculous. Clearly you are still able to protect yourself—" He gestured at the peanut gallery. Miss Lehane, Mister Gunn, Connor and Lily (and Nyx, mustn't forget that bloody cat) had come to join Angel, Miss Burkle, Lorne, and Wyndam-Pryce in their stupefied audience. Miss Lehane and Mister Gunn were still somewhat out of breath — presumably they'd raced back here from wherever their quest for more literature had taken them when the _bloody earthquake_ began. "—and so long as you _win_ the love of the people of the world, rather than simply _taking_ it; so long as you do not enthrall them, but only sway them; make them _want_ to cooperate, rather than forcing them to do so, I have done nothing at all. Go start a cult or a political career, as we discussed. Spread your influence and bloody well learn to delegate, rather than attempting to micro-manage six _billion_ individual minds and hearts — it will _work_. It will _take_ work, it will be _hard_ , but _I have faith in you_ , Luz. It _will_ work." He said this with as much sincerity as he could muster.

Not that it wasn't _true_ — if she followed his plan, he was sure it would succeed. It was just, his plan involved her engaging so deeply with humanity that she would be influenced by their myriad competing ideals of _good_ , their differing opinions on what _peace_ should look like, and lose sight of her _own_ plan before she managed to crown herself undying god-queen of the world.

The recently-embodied goddess simply _stared_ at him for a long moment. The entire world seemed to hold its breath around them... And then let it go. "Get out. Just— Get out. Leave me alone, all of you! I...require some time to consider my plans moving forward. Go!"


	32. What Leadership Looks Like

"He just— He just _left_ , just up and _ran off to Cleveland_ to deal with a goddamn _necromancer_ , I mean _who does that?_ We didn't even have sex in case he doesn't come back! This morning was _not_ his best effort, I don't want _that_ to be the last—"

"Anya," Dawn said, turning to the demon, who had been following her around, complaining about Xander going with Willow and Giles to stop the evil necromancer terrorising the shores of Lake...Huron? No, that wasn't it. Erie? That had to be it, Andrew decided.

 _Obviously_ an evil necromancer would be terrorising Lake Eerie. (It was _thematic_.)

"He'll come back."

The ex-demon scowled, flouncing over to plop on the couch between two worried Potentials who _hadn't_ gone with Buffy and Bella to shoot eyeless demons with crossbows. (Andrew had offered to go too, with his flamethrower, but Buffy said he should stay and help guard the house.) They both looked a little more uncomfortable when she did. "I still don't see why he had to go, anyway! What the hell is _Xander_ going to do against a _necromancer?_ He should be here, fixing the window again and having sex with me!"

Jennifer, the Potential on Anya's right, actually tried to scoot away from her a little, but there wasn't exactly room. Four of the Potentials had gone with Buffy and Bella. Kennedy went with Willow and Xander and Giles, and Spike was still missing, and Mira was kidnapped, but there were still an awful lot of people packed into their one little living room — another potential had shown up on their doorstep just this morning (Shannon) — and four of them were on the couch. Five, now, counting Anya.

"Xander already fixed the window," Andrew reminded her — she should _know_ , it was _right behind her_ , but she _was_ distraught. He guessed. No excuse, really, for not noticing all the hard work Xander had done fixing it. And Andrew. He had helped. It made him feel manly. Not that there was anything wrong with baking cookies and cleaning up and getting groceries and stuff — _someone_ needed to, and it was good to have _something_ to do — but it had been _fun_ , working with Xander. Getting all sweaty and _hammering_ and...being _manly_.

"I'd break it again if he'd stay here, safe, to fix it."

That was...almost sweet. Kind of. For Anya.

" _Safe?_ " Kellie, the Potential on Anya's left, glared at her. "You think we're _safe_ here? After Chloe? And now Mira's been kidnapped, and—"

" _Pft_. Compared to dealing with an _actual lich_ , one little suicide and one kidnapped succubus is _nothing_ , little girl! You heard Bella, anyway, her little horny bunny friend is fine. She's probably having her way with the kidnapper _right now_."

"Anya!" Dawn snapped.

" _What?!_ "

"You're. Not. Helping."

"Well, what am I supposed to do? Go _home?_ It's all...cold, and empty. And Buffy said not to go anywhere alone, and _Xander's in Cleveland!_ For _no reason!_ "

"Xander's in Cleveland because if Willow goes all dark and evil again, he knows how to talk her down," Dawn reminded her. Not that she should _need_ reminding, she was _here_ when Willow was going evil and trying to kill him. But she _was_ distraught. (He guessed.)

Andrew didn't envy him the task. Willow was _terrifying_. Seeing some of the things she still did, like with the portal opening and the protection circle spell, she was _still_ scary, even when she wasn't all dark and evil. If it was a choice between trying to convince her not to kill everyone ever, or running away to Mehico again, he'd pick Mehico. And there were _mosquitos_ in Mehico. And _cucarachas_. And Jonathan was too dead to kill them for Andrew, now.

(He _never_ should have listened to Warren-Slash-the-First!)

"Kennedy could— Oh, okay, _fine_ ," she pouted at Dawn's expression, which said _you're full of shit, Anya, of course Kennedy wouldn't be able to stop Evil Dark Willow_ almost as clear as if she said it out loud. "I just... I just worry about him, is all."

Dawn sighed. "I know. I know everyone else is worried, too," she said, raising her voice, just a little, speaking to the assembled Potentials, now, too. Somehow she'd ended up in the middle of the room, with everyone else sitting or standing around the edges of it, and now it looked like she was going to make a speech. "About Molly and Cari and Amanda and Chao-Ahn—" Those were the four potentials Bella had said could go back them up. Molly and Caridad were the best with crossbows, Amanda "had the right attitude" (whatever that meant), and Chao-Ahn _totally_ knew kung-fu. "And even about Buffy."

"And Mira," one of the girls said — Andrew didn't catch who, someone over by the door.

"And Mira," Dawn repeated, nodding. No one said _and Bella_ , probably because they all knew she could do that creepy disappearing into shadows thing, on top of being maybe the scariest person in the house in terms of killing-people abilities. "And I won't lie to you. What they're doing is dangerous. The man who kidnapped Mira is one of Hot Shit's most dangerous followers. He's a serial killer, and he has dozens of Bringers at his command."

She paused to let them mutter between themselves a little.

"Buffy knows that." Everyone shut up. "So does Bella. That's why they didn't want you all to go with them, because this _is_ dangerous, and you're here to stay safe. As safe as any of us can be, anyway.

"This, the Vinyard, it's a trap, they know it and they're walking into it anyway. They don't have to. Bella could just slip in and get Mira and leave. But they want to know what they're up against. What _we're_ up against. This isn't a rescue mission, it's a _recon_ mission. Because we can't run, we can't hide. We _are_ going to have to fight this guy. We're going to have to kill him, probably, because if we don't, he'll kill us.

"That's kind of what being a Slayer is all about.

"Standing up to the Dark, to the demons and the monsters, even the human ones, like this _Caleb_ guy, and saying _you might hurt me, but you can't beat me_. It's about...about taking your fear and pain and _rage_ , and throwing them back in the faces of the people, the _things_ , that hurt you.

"It's okay to be afraid. It's human. We're all human."

" _Kind of,_ " Anya muttered, but Dawn ignored her.

"But it's also human to _hate_. To want to destroy the monsters that threaten you, hiding in the dark. To want to kill them for taking away people you loved, people who loved _you_ — your families, I know some of you lost family, when the Bringers came for you. Watchers, those of you who had Watchers before you came here. Chloe. She was your friend, your sister. Even Eve. We never got to know her, really, but she was still one of you.

"She had the same potential destiny as all of you. As _any_ of you.

"And I know you don't want it. That this _destiny_ , all it's done is ruin your life. Believe me, I know what that's like. I know you didn't _choose_ this. Neither did Faith, or Kendra, or Buffy. Neither did the Slayer before her, or Principal Wood's mom, or any of the girls who have been 'the Chosen One', however that even works, for the last ten thousand years."

"Magic, apparently," one of the Potentials said, completely deadpan. Dianne, maybe.

Dawn ignored her too, though a few other girls giggled. "The only Slayer who ever had a choice about _becoming_ the Slayer was Kiki. She never dreamed that she would be cursing thousands of girls to follow in her footsteps, cursing you with a destiny none of you want. She only dreamed of _revenge_. When she told the shamans of her tribe to give _her_ the power of the demon they'd captured, she just wanted the strength to fight back. To stand up to the monsters in the dark, to kill them for killing her family, to hurt them like they hurt her — to _destroy_ them, and save her people.

"Because she didn't start this war. We, _humans_ , didn't start this war. For a long, _long_ time, we weren't even a side, we were just pawns to the demons fighting each other. Resources. _Food_. We — humans, Kiki, the fifteen of us sitting in this room tonight — none of us had a choice about that. About whether we're in this war.

"Our choice was, _is_ , whether we just live our lives and pretend that we don't know what's out there in the dark, waiting to prey on us, to kill us or take our loved ones from us, to make us fear and despair and feed on our misery— or whether we fight back.

"Kiki chose to fight back. She chose to embrace the Dark, fight fire with fire.

"Buffy chose to fight back. That's why she's out there, now, springing this bastard's trap. Because she knows that the war is there whether we like it or not, and she can't just sit back and watch until it comes to prey on us all.

"And I don't know about you, but I'm choosing to fight back, too."

Rona rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, good luck with that. In case you haven't noticed, we're not Slayers. We're _kids_. What the hell are _you_ going to do to _fight back?_ What can _any_ of us do?"

Dawn gave her a grim, disapproving _look_ , like _no one asked_ you _, Debbie Downer!_ But Andrew did have to admit, Rona had a point. Dawn could definitely beat _him_ in a sword fight, but most evil things they fought were a lot bigger and meaner and scarier than Andrew.

"No, you're right. We aren't Slayers. I don't even share your potential destiny, but we're all in this war, we don't have a choice about that. So I refuse to be cowed by the monsters in the dark. Yes, I'm afraid. For my sister and my friends, for myself and all of you. But I'm not going to let that fear be used against me. I'm not going to just sit here, letting it eat away at me, all the what-ifs and uncertainty.

"I'm going to study. I'm going to learn magic. You don't have to be a witch to do a ritual and cast a spell. There's power in your will, and together we're stronger than the sum of our parts. That's what Willow said, when we did that spell to support each other, remember?

"I'm going to learn self-defense. Maybe I'll never be able to kill a Turok-Han, but those aren't the only monsters out there. When this is over, I'm not going to be afraid to walk down a dark alley at night or out to my car, or drive out of the city alone to look at the stars, just because some man, some completely mundane, human predator, might try to hurt me.

"I'm... I'm going to go to school," she added, after the slightest hesitation. "College. I'm thinking law. Helping people, saving the environment sort of law. I'm going to believe that we can make a difference, that we can make this world a better place, keep pushing the darkness back."

She threw her hair back over her shoulder, her voice growing more confident as she kind of seemed to hit her stride. "Because the Slayer doesn't fight evil alone. She might stand alone in the dark, actually doing the killing of things that go bump in the night, but it's us, the rest of humanity, living and loving and having families and spreading out to conquer every corner of the Earth; coming up with ideas like democracy and tolerance; refusing to hurt each other for no reason, refusing to be afraid and divided— _We're_ the ones who _drive it back_.

"And we're winning.

"Buffy said that we'd take the fight to Hot Shit if it wanted a war, but the truth is we already have. We — humans — didn't have a choice about being in this war, it was kill or be killed. But guess what? We're _winning_. Fire. Agriculture. Civilization. The rule of law. Human rights. Those are our weapons. Our ancestors drove all the true demons out of this plane, forced the Dark and all its creatures into the shadows, reshaped this world in the image of humanity, just by _living_ , by _being human_. By refusing to lose hope, even on the darkest nights.

"It's not over, there's still more to do. Humans can be just as cruel and evil and abusive to each other as demons — there's darkness in us, too. But we can overcome it. We can take action, build a better society, a better world for ourselves. Hope and action. _That's_ how we fight."

She glared at them as though _daring_ them to disagree, and Andrew had a very _surreal_ moment, seeing her for the first time not as Dawn Summers, sixteen-year-old Sunnydale High student and Buffy's little sister, but as a _leader_. Standing in the middle of her living room like it was a stage, like they weren't just a bunch of scared kids when it came down to it, but really an army, and she was giving a stirring speech to the troops — the Forces of Goodness, the Future of America, the Hope for a Brighter Future... (A dozen teenage girls, himself, and Anya Jenkins...)

A thought popped into his head and out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "When you stop fighting back, the terrorists win."

Some of the girls laughed, breaking the moment, but Dawn didn't. She turned to him with eyes that looked, just for a second, like they were older than eternity, totally serious, and said, "You're not wrong."


	33. Rescue Gone Awry

Spike was drunk.

Really, like, _smashed_.

He had been for...well, he didn't know what night it was, just at the mo', but a while. Since... Since he'd almost killed Mira and she— Since he'd almost killed her.

That was worse, he thought, now he was over the immediate horror of his body _not working_ , than that she used some evil magic on him, that she was always planning to betray him. After all, she hadn't lied to him, had she? She'd told him, that very first day, when they stayed up past sunrise talking, before she convinced him to bite her— She'd _told him_ that she was a Child of the Dark. (That was what she called people he'd just call _evil_.)

Conniving, manipulative bitch!

But it wasn't her fault he'd— He was a fucking _sap_ , that's what it was!

You ask a girl if she's an angel, and she tells you she's a devil, and you keep thinking she's a bloody angel? _Moron!_

Hot Shite _had_ been right about her, _stop feeling bad because you made her cry! She_ enslaved _you! She_ admitted it _!_

But she'd also admitted that she hadn't wanted to have to use it, whatever power she had over him. And he... He _was_ dangerous. It was bloody mad for him to be anywhere _near_ the girls, when Hot Shite could do _that_ to him, whenever it wanted, turn him into a bloody monster.

Was it just waiting, he wondered, until all the Potentials got here, turn him loose in the middle of them? Would it have made him try to kill Buffy? _Dawn?_

 _God_ , it made him sick, thinking about...

_No. No, not thinking about that. About Dawn, all broken and bloody, about what she would taste like— NO!_

Mira was a cold fucking bitch, she'd manipulated him, wrapped him right around her delicate little finger, made him _love her_ —

He did, he'd admit it — not like Buffy, maybe, but Buffy was...strong, and stubborn, and always _trying_ , refusing to give up on saving the world. She loved her sister, her friends, she'd do anything for them. She was...who she was. Always. (That didn't make sense. He was drunk.) She wouldn't compromise, that was it. Had standards. Hated herself for being with him. But she'd saved him. She _believed in him_. That he could be a good man. And she'd come for him, in the cave...

He'd told her once, she was the great love of his life. Death. Whatever. The _one_. The centre of his world. The hundred-odd years before he'd met her, they were just the prologue, this — _she_ — was the story. For love of her, he would do the impossible, had _done_ the impossible, gone and gotten his bloody soul back... He'd write poetry for her, if he still wrote poetry — just as well he didn't, he'd been bloody _terrible_. She was...

It was an _epic_ sort of love. Star-crossed and doomed, maybe, and never going to be quite right, but _God_... It was the sort of love that gave a man direction in life, larger than — the sort of love that drove a man to prove he could... That he could be better than he was.

The sort of love that _burned_ , fierce and wild, _passionate_ — Love like a curse, like to drive a man mad. ...But it was a glorious sort of madness, the sort of madness that could change the world.

Mira was...easy. (Not like _that_. Well, okay, yes, like that, too, but.) She didn't demand that he be better, that he be _more_ than he was. She... She just...understood him. Accepted him. Made him feel like he belonged with her, or _anywhere_ , for the first time since...since Dru left him, maybe. Supported him. Like...

Like family.

Like the wife he'd never had — would never have — or a sister, maybe. (Er...aside from the sex.) He didn't know, all his siblings had died in the cradle. (The world was a different, harsher place when he was young.) Not dramatic and passionate, but... The kind of love you could grow old with, a comfortable, home-like love.

 _Storge_ , that was the word.

And she'd– she'd just gone and _shattered_ it. Threw it away. No, worse, showed him that it never _existed_. Not like he thought it did. Not like...

He'd thought she felt it, too. ( _Moron!_ )

Maybe it was just how the one thing had happened right after the other, but when he thought of her saying _I sacrificed the chance to own his heart and soul to make him my slave_ , all matter-of-fact and uncaring, almost _smug_ , he couldn't help thinking of his mother, after...after he _ruined_ her, the horrible, horrible things she'd said, not content to just stab him in the heart, but taking the knife and _twisting_...

"I told you you couldn't trust her, didn't I?"

That wasn't Buffy. Buffy was...somewhere not here.

"What're you...? Piss off. Don't need you makin' me more mis'rable, thanks."

The First — Hot Shite — changed its face to pout at him like Dru. "But I'm not _here_ to make you _sad_ , my love! I have good, _good_ news! The _best_ news!"

A chill ran down his spine like holy water burning through him, made him feel about dead sober in an instant. "What's that, then?" he asked, trying not to let on how much he cared.

It knew anyway. It laughed, that light, girlish, carefree giggle that meant someone was going to die. "Your little demon strumpet, the one who thought she could steal you from me? Turned it right around, I did." She did a little pirouette, grinning with childish glee. "Stole _her_ from _hers_."

"You...stole Mira?" That...made no sense. Mira had claimed she could _ignore_ Hot Shite whispering at the back of her mind ("What's another little niggling voice of self-doubt, really?") and even if she _couldn't_ , Spike _really_ couldn't imagine her turning against Shadow Girl.

"Not like she tried to steal _you_ , silly boy. _Actually_ stole. Just...snatched her away to bait my little trap."

"You– You _kidnapped_ her? But—"

"Oh, yes. My true and _faithful_ follower has finally arrived. I've promised he can have his fun with our lovely little guest, _after_ he's finished with the Slayer and the little girl with the broken mind. Must eat one's veggies before dessert — work before play." She grinned. "Though I don't know that the whore will enjoy herself quite so much as she expects."

Her form shifted to show some stranger, a girl maybe fourteen or fifteen years old, her face a bloody parody of shock, trying to hold her insides on the inside, a coil of intestine slipping past her fingers, escaping the gaping wound across her stomach like the bloody Whitechapel Murderer'd got her.

He shook his head, trying not to get lost in memories. "They'll— Buffy's not stupid, nor Shadow Girl. They'll know it's a trap."

"Do you think _I'm_ stupid?" not-Buffy asked, giving him a Very Serious Slayer look. "We know that they know. We're _waiting_ for them."

"Yeah, well, I don't care how true and faithful your wanna-be Ripper is, you're _both_ stupid if you think those two aren't going to kick his arse."

Hot Shite laughed. "Doubtful. Even if they could, _we have hostages_. Your brilliant, beloved Slayer is even bringing us a few herself. And I don't think even that twisted little monster will do anything that seriously endangers her precious girlfriend. Do you?"

 _Fuck!_ Shadow Girl could probably just pop out of a shadow and kidnap Mira back if she wanted to. But they were taking Potentials with them? Into what they _had_ to know was a trap! What the _hell_ were they thinking? _That_ was a problem, because Buffy would lay down her arms the second they got one of her girls in hand, even if the mad little demon probably wouldn't.

"Where?" The question erupted from his lips without any conscious decision.

Hot Shite sneered at him. "Why? Want to run in and play the hero? It's too late, you know."

"All the same, where are they? Can't hurt to tell me if it's already too late."

" _Hmm_..."

No, forget it, she — _it_ — would probably just lie to him anyway. He was halfway to the door, coat settling around his shoulders, before he even finished the thought.

They hadn't taken _all_ of the Potentials — they'd need a bloody _bus_ — that meant there were still people at the Summers' house, they'd know where Buffy had taken off to, probably be planning some sort of rescue themselves, just in case. Be smart if they were, seeing as they _knew_ it was a trap, and Hot Shite hadn't mentioned Willow or Xander or any of the other "Scoobies" — left in reserve? Brill, he'd join the cavalry.

Except, when he barged through the front door of Buffy's home without so much as a perfunctory knock, there was no annoyingly underconfident arch-witch, no excruciatingly irritating former flatmate, no covertly ruthless librarian, no one planning anything at all, just a front parlour full of helpless little girls. And Andrew. (So...just helpless girls, then.) All of them were trying not to seem as scared and worried as they were, he could see it at a glance, smell their fear on them, and all of them turned to stare at him as he swept into the entryway.

"Spike?"

"Dawn. Where are they? How far ahead of me are Willow and the others?"

"What? Willow and Xander and Giles left for Cleveland like, this morning. _Hours_ ago."

"If you were planning on running off to fight that undead necromancer, too, you missed the plane," Anya informed him. "Not that vampires should really be anywhere near necromancers, but—"

"What? No, shut up! Why— Never mind! Buffy! Where's Buffy? And Shadow Girl? They're walking into a trap, and—"

"They're not stupid, they know it's a trap," Dawn said, as though _Spike_ was the idiot, here.

"Yeah, neither is Hot Shite. They know they know it's a trap, and your little Potential friends are going to be hostages, and _where are they?_ "

The girl flinched, but Spike found he didn't much care if he was scaring the littles, if he didn't get there, didn't head them off, this whole _rescue mission_ was going to go down the toilet before they got anywhere _close_ to saving Mira!

"There's, um... It's this old vinyard, Shadow Valley, you know, all those fields you see heading north out of town on One-Fifty-Four?"

So, about fifteen miles out of town. "Fuck! How far ahead of me are they?"

"They're probably already there, they left almost an hour ago. What—"

He swept back out of the house before Dawn could finish her question. No time for pleasantries at the moment, he had a rescue to commence.

Was he sober enough to be racing a motorbike down the freeway at ninety miles an hour? No. Was he sober enough to care? Also, no. _Vampire_ — if he crashed, he'd walk it off. ...Though it would take him even longer to get there if he killed the bike... (He slowed down, just a smidge.)

He wasn't exactly subtle, roaring up to the main doors, but that didn't matter, because it had taken him far too long to find the actual _winery_ — the fight was already in full swing when he crashed the party.

They were down in the cellar, fighting between the aging casks — at least one had been broken open, air was full of the smell of a full-bodied red, the floor soaked with it. Where— Oh. There was a Potential lying broken in the wreckage, her neck at an obviously broken angle.

Buffy was exchanging blows with some arse in a priest's collar — must be that _true and faithful_ Hot Shite had been so pleased with — spouting nonsense in a Southern accent. (Spike didn't bother listening.) He didn't seem to so much as flinch at her strikes, laughing as he advanced, pushing her back easily. Spike was guessing from Buffy's expression of pure _rage_ that he was the one who had killed Whatsherface, Number Two.

"Oh! Spike! Hi!" Shadow Girl was dancing with a dozen-odd bringers, a trio of other potentials between the two of them, obviously making toward the door he'd just come through. One of them had a broken arm — her companions were guarding her, taking the odd swipe at any Bringers that got too close, but most of them seemed focused on Shadow Girl. Good call, insofar as she was the bigger threat; not so much insofar as she clearly had them outmatched — looked like she was having the time of her life, with another half dozen bodies littering the space between herself and the centre of the room.

Mira was perched atop a rack of smaller casks, swiping at the heads and hands of the three eyeless bastards attempting to drag her down with one of their own knives. "Liam? Oh, _bugger! Eep!_ "

 _Oh, bugger!_ He'd distracted her, one of her attackers actually managed to grab one of her ankles, pulling her to the ground—

" _Bella!_ "

"Spike, hold my place? Cheers!" The mad little girl ducked under a Bringer's strike, spinning around to knife him in the kidney as she skipped over to rescue Mira, leaping onto the back of one and slitting his throat from behind, rolling free as he fell—

One of the Potentials screamed as she was disarmed, her cudgel disappearing into the flickering shadows between the barrels.

_Shite!_

For a few seconds, maybe a minute, he continued to cover the girls' retreat, beating the fuckers back as best he could. He'd brought a knife, and they couldn't really stand up to vampiric strength — if he managed to hit them, they went flying — but there was only one of him, and the lot of them closed in on him same as they had with Shadow Girl.

"Get out, coast's clear up there," he snapped at the slow-moving Potentials. Honestly, what the fuck was taking them so long? He was drawing all the fire, here... _Oof_ — "Oh, you fucking bastard," he muttered, breaking the neck of the Bringer who'd just sunk a knife into his shoulder — through his coat, that was going to be _impossible_ to patch — with a sharp elbow to his face. Very satisfying _crunch_ , that.

"Zee, go," Bella ordered her — Spike hadn't seen how she finished off the other two demons now dead at her feet, but Mira had a clear path to the stairs, now, sprinted past Spike to help the limping Potential — guess that explained why they were so bloody slow.

"Ah, ah, ah, can't have you all leaving the party so soon," Preacher Man drawled, dealing Buffy an almost dismissive uppercut as he turned to the fleeing girls. She went flying, landing in another cask, another flood of red spilling out to slick up their footing, though this one smelled like it'd gone off. Vinegary, like.

"Whoops." Shadow Girl laughed as Buffy clambered out of the broken barrel. "Hey, Summers, wanna trade partners?"

"He's all yours," Buffy said, sounding almost relieved. She didn't head straight for Spike and the door, though — she stopped to gather the body of her fallen Potential, first.

"Great. I have a bone to pick with him about kidnapping my girlfriend," Shadow Girl grinned as though this was some hilarious joke, skipping over to the preacher — who was a good foot taller than her — to block his path to the door.

"Very funny, little girl."

"I like to think so."

She gave him an innocent smile, and kicked him in the balls hard enough to make Spike flinch. Maybe more than the preacher, though it did get _some_ reaction from him, which was more than any of Buffy's punches had done, earlier. Enough to make him angry, knocking her to the ground with a rabbit-punch to the face. She popped back to her feet almost immediately, tweaking her nose back into shape. " _Ow?_ Worth it, though, to establish you _can_ be hurt. Buffy's sword didn't seem to be making much of an impact earlier. Also, you punch like a girl. Specifically the Slayer, but—"

He punched her again, this time throwing her into one of the pillars supporting the floor above them. She flopped to the floor like a rag doll.

"Bella!" Buffy hesitated, clearly torn between going back to help her, and getting out with the remains of her girl.

"I thought I was pretty clear, Summers," Shadow Girl groaned, rolling to her feet again. "Get the fuck out. He's _mine_. You, too, Spike," she added, charging at the seemingly invincible man. "You're awfully _slow_ , you know," she told him, ducking under his next punch and leaping at his back, wrenching his head around in a way that might have broken _Spike's_ neck, but just annoyed this fucker.

He grabbed her by one arm, hauling her in front of him, holding her in mid-air with one hand. "What is _wrong_ with you? Do you _want_ me to kill you?"

"Do you _not_ want to? Because it doesn't seem like you're trying too hard."

Spike heard at least one bone snap as he threw her into the same support pillar again, on top of the sick, heavy _thump_ of a body hit that would break ribs, but he couldn't look, momentarily distracted by a Binger he could've sworn was dead crawling to its feet. "Oh, no you don't..." There, neck broken. Definitely dead. And...that was all of them. Okay. So. Buffy.

He moved to take the corpse off her, let her stagger a little faster up the stairs, but she waved him off. "Help Bella. I'll get the girls out."

"Pretty sure she doesn't want my help."

He was also pretty sure she was _insane_ , rolling to her feet again and cracking her neck. "That didn't work the first time, why would you expect it to work the _second_ time? Isn't that the definition of insanity?"

The preacher had already turned to continue his slow but steady advance on Buffy and himself. He turned back to look at the girl with what Spike might call surprise, if he hadn't been so unnervingly _calm_ about it. "If you had half a brain in that dirty little head of yours, you'd stay down."

"This is nothing, Caleb, darling. A little wine and muck? You should see me after a few weeks in hell."

"That is _not_ what I meant, you—"

"I know," she interrupted. "Make me."

"What's that, now?"

"You want me to stay down, _make me_. Unless you think you can't do it."

"You little..." He stalked back over to the girl, wrenching her into the air again, this time by her neck.

"Go," Spike muttered to Buffy. "I'll stay, try to slow him down when he's done with her."

The audacious little demon gave the man — who could probably snap her neck with one hand, there — a bloody grin, then _spat in his eye_.

He bloody well _flipped_ , ranting about her blood contaminating him or some shite as he tried to wipe it away. Spike was more paying attention to the way Shadow Girl went _intangible_ , literally slipping through the bastard's fingers — he didn't even seem to notice.

" _Adustulare._ "

 _That_ he noticed, shrieking and clawing at his face. Shadow Girl just stood there and watched as he fell to his knees.

"This would be the opportune moment to _run_ , Spike," she said, laughing at the look on his face, which was...

"What did you _do_?"

"Set my blood on fire. In his eye. Ooh, think I made him angry." She giggled, skipping back out of reach as he flailed at her, absolutely _furious_ , like some kind of wounded animal. "Careful, there, Caleb, _darling_ — wouldn't want to hurt yourself, what with that lack of depth perception," she taunted him, flitting around to what had to be a blind spot now, laughing as he spun to catch her. "So close! Come on, you can do it. Or, I don't know, can you? Or are you just too slow?"

He clearly wasn't, being that strong, he _had_ to be able to move faster than he was. He lurched at her, but she sidestepped, still taunting him. "You remind me of my father, you know. I think it's the whole _stay down_ thing, mostly." A tiny backward skip, letting his fingertips brush her sleeve as she twisted away. "Also the heinous bastard thing. And the hatred of little girls who refuse to do as they're told." _Duck. Spin_. She threw a quick side-kick at his right knee, didn't seem to make an impact, but when he twisted to intercept her, finally matching her speed, _something_ did, his arm falling limply to his side with a hiss of pain. "Caleb! I _said_ be _careful!_ Human bodies aren't meant to be quite that strong, you know. Move too fast, you'll just tear yourself apart. What was that, a tricep?" She clicked her tongue in a mockery of disapproval, skipping back again.

"I. Will. _Kill_. You. You infuriating little demon child!"

"I don't think so. You're still not really _trying_. I mean, I'm human. You're like all _übermensch_ over there, and yet I'm still standing."

He threw an abandoned club at her, catching her in the shoulder with enough force to knock her back, tripping over a dead Bringer, gave him enough time to cross the space between them _without_ hurting himself. He kicked her in the gut, lifting her off the ground and throwing her into yet another cask.

"Oi! Tall, dark, and bastardly!" Not Spike's best line, but he was still a little drunk. Didn't matter. The priest turned just in time for his eyes to widen in shock before taking the cask of wine Spike had just thrown at him full in the face. His _one_ eye — the other was a bloody, burned-out _mess_. The cask shattered around him as he just _stood there_ , doing probably no good at all, but the look on his face had been something, at least. And, _heh_ , his stupid little white priest-collar thing was completely ruined.

And then an engine revving and a horn honking — presumably a _we're safe, get the hell out of there_ signal — diverted his attention, his head snapping to look toward the stairs...and then a hand leaping to his neck. Pulled something, maybe? Nice trick, that.

"I think that's our cue," Bella said, pulling herself back to her feet _yet again_ (seriously, _how?_ ), coughing and retching a bit. Spike would be shocked if she didn't have some internal bleeding — taking a blow like that to the gut was no joke, not to mention getting thrown around earlier (he still didn't know what bone he'd heard break) — but that wouldn't be obvious yet. "Caleb, it's been fun. Do tell Prewett for me that I'm sorry I missed her, we'll have to do this again sometime." She coughed again, wincing — obviously she _was_ hurt, even if she wasn't really showing it. "But not _too_ soon."

"Oh, you won't be leavin'! Not after all the chaos and mess you've caused me tonight!" He stalked over to her, kicking broken barrel-staves and dropped weapons and bodies out of the way.

She gave him a weak grin, swaying just a bit, Spike thought. "Yeah, well, chaos and mess-making are kind of my _thing_. And you kidnapped Zee. Consider yourself lucky I'm letting you live — usually I torture people to death when they do that."

" _Letting me_ — You _arrogant_ little..." He reached down to grab her by the shoulders, to shake her or throw her into another wall or break her back over his knee, Spike didn't know, but his hands went straight through her. "What in _blazes_...?"

"Yes, _let you_ ," the girl said, stepping through him like a bloody ghost. "You might be damn near invulnerable and heal stupidly fast—" Right, he'd just used both arms, including the one that'd been out of commission a second ago. "—but so are your Mistress's precious fiends. And it doesn't matter how strong you are if you can't touch me." She spun around to give him a mocking grin as he whirled to make another swipe at her, moving awfully smoothly for being thrown around like she had been the last five minutes — seemed the evil baddie wasn't the only thing around here healed fast. "Honestly, I like the ones that are hard to kill. Means I can play with them as long as I like. And we both know you _can_ be hurt, don't we? Punch like a freight train comes with a price."

"What _are_ you?" the man demanded, stunned and furious, swiping a fist through her head again.

"Oh, right, never did get to the introductions, did we? I'm Bellatrix. I'm _the distraction_." She gave him a mocking little curtsey.

Priest didn't appreciate that much. He growled under his breath, stalking past her toward Spike and the door. Spike hesitated. On the one hand, he had said he'd try to slow the bastard down. On the other, though, Buffy was already gone, and Spike didn't much fancy getting his arse kicked by some invulnerable monster of a man.

"Hey! Where're you—"

"Maybe I can't break _your_ ghostly little neck, but your pet harlot's a different animal altogether, isn't she?" he snapped. "You don't get it, little girl. We _know where you live_. Y'all are _sittin' ducks_ , bunch of stupid cows just waitin' for the slaughter!"

"Yeah, no, that's not happening."

The girl darted at his back, leaping at him sort of sideways with an elbow out to catch him in the kidney with the full weight of her momentum. Actually _did_ , there was a flash of pain across his face, he stumbled, and then they were gone. Both of them.

Half a second later, Shadow Girl reappeared, giggling and out of breath, though she quickly stopped, the adrenaline high of the fight almost visibly leaving her as she limped over to Spike to lean on his arm. "I think I need a nap. And I know I said I'm never getting in one of those horrible metal boxes again, but I probably shouldn't enter the shadows around here again until that fucker's had time to get turned around and wander off. I assume you brought an automobile?"

"Er...motorbike. What did— Did you just..."

"Dragged him into the Shadow Plane. Won't kill him. Won't even stop him forever. I'm sure Hot Shite will get him back here eventually. It _is_ easier to get out of the Dark than it is to get _in_. But it's kind of disorienting if you aren't used to seeing with magic. Should keep him out of the way for a while, at least. Does you being here mean you're not angry at Zee anymore?"

"What? I— She—" He sighed, almost as thrown by the sudden change of subject as he was uncertain about his feelings for Mira. "I am, but..."

The girl looked up to give him a crooked smirk. "Yeah, she has that effect on people. Let's go home."


	34. Kiss and Make Up

"He doesn't hate you, Zee."

Mira startled at the sudden non-sequitur. She'd _thought_ Bella was already asleep. She was certainly lying more _stilly_ than she tended to when she was awake, stretched out on a purloined bedroll in what was definitely actually a cupboard, because Bella was _such_ a house elf, sometimes. She'd insisted that she didn't want to be asleep and injured _out in the open_ — it felt too vulnerable, Mira assumed, even when they were in a safe place surrounded by friends, or at the very least _allies_ — but if they _had_ to stay here, if she couldn't just find some little cave somewhere to curl up and lick her wounds, 'one of those little store-rooms, you know, like under the stairs' would be acceptable. As long as Mira didn't tell anyone where she was.

Which of _course_ Mira had agreed not to do. She hadn't even left the cupboard herself yet, still stretched out beside Bella, playing with her hair — because capable as she might be of dealing calmly with the occasional abduction, it was still a relief to be back here, safe. She wasn't quite ready to put on an act for anyone else at the moment. And Bella, in the wake of a fight when she was truly exhausted (and generally injured), actually _liked_ snuggling, rather than simply tolerating Mira's "silly, normal-person desire" for physical contact with another human being.

"What?"

Bella flinched. " _Loud_."

She hadn't been, really. She'd actually been making an effort to keep her voice soft, match the volume Bella had used. She knew her girlfriend tended to get hypersensitive unusually quickly when she was deprived of sensory stimulation. Lying here in the dark for...however long, at least fifteen or twenty minutes, she thought, with the loudest sound being Mira's breathing and the occasional distant voice or footsteps of a person walking past outside or climbing the stairs (which also made Bella flinch), she'd expected as much. " _Sorry. Hmm?_ "

"Spike. Doesn't hate you. I asked, at the vinyard, 'cos he came to help rescue you, and all."

"...Thank you?" Not that she didn't mean it, she was glad to know as much — it made the idea of leaving the cupboard and dealing with people (of whom Liam was one of the more likely to still be conscious) seem a hell of a lot less intimidating, actually — it was just bloody weird Bella had thought to ask. The only semi-reasonable explanation was that Caleb had hurt her _much_ worse than Mira had thought, the flood of post-fight happy brain chemicals that occasionally induced Bella to act relatively human kicking in stronger than usual at the end of their confrontation. "Are you okay?"

"Mm...sleepy. Might've used too much soulfire. Your new boyfriend's a complete _bastard_ to fight..."

Mira rolled her eyes at the sighing, contented tone of that observation. "Go to sleep, Bee."

Bella didn't respond, which didn't actually mean she was falling asleep, just that she didn't think that comment warranted a response. Her breathing was just as even and quiet as it always was when she wasn't speaking — product of a dozen years of meditation and focusing exercises — and Mira wasn't exactly in a position to feel her pulse. Though that could also get awfully slow when she was meditating. Mira had fallen asleep between Tom and Bella on multiple occasions, certain that Bella was also asleep and would be there when she woke up, only to have Tom inform her in the morning, when it was just the two of them, that Bella had never actually been unconscious.

Not for the first time, Mira was struck by how peculiar her girlfriend was, compared to the rest of the species she nominally belonged to. Liam was more human, honestly.

At least his demons were external in origin. And the...whatever it was that made him a vampire — it hadn't managed to entirely destroy his human personality, even before he'd gone out and 'earned his soul back', if his stories were anything to judge by. He'd clearly loved Drusilla, felt some responsibility for her, wanted to keep her safe and well, long before he'd regained his conscience. And regardless of his claim that he hadn't truly loved Buffy before his re-ensoulment, it seemed fairly clear to Mira that he had.

Perhaps not in a very _healthy_ way, their relationship as he described it reminded her a bit of Adara's ongoing fascination with Tom — though of course Tom had been intentionally driving Mira's aunt insane, playing mind games with her before he grew bored with her and broke it off. Buffy simply couldn't accept her own desires, and therefore couldn't accept Liam's, no matter how desperately she wanted to. (Dying and coming back to life on him also hadn't helped — talk about bloody mixed signals...)

It was still love.

So far as Mira could tell, the only thing that changed in regard to his feelings for Buffy when Liam regained his 'soul' was that his passion for the Slayer had taken on a certain quality of...admiration. An _approval_ of her mission, her holier-than-thou moral certainty and self-righteousness, which he _dearly_ desired her to reciprocate. Before, he hadn't needed her _affection_ , he'd just needed her to admit that he was as important to her, in his own way, as she was to him. That they _burned_ for each other. But now...

Well, that simply wasn't enough.

And on top of that, his love for her was all bound up in his own guilt for the horrors he'd committed since his re-birth, such that his value as a person, as a _good man_ , was largely dependent on Buffy's opinion of him, and earning redemption in her eyes.

Mira wondered if Buffy knew that. She thought not, but Buffy hadn't opened up enough to her to say for certain. (The older girl just didn't strike her as being quite cruel enough to deliberately string Liam along as she very clearly was.)

She hadn't really needed to, though. Liam had been more than sufficiently forthcoming for Mira to realise that the key to his heart, the thing he was truly _lacking_ in his life, was for someone to recognise that he wasn't a complete psychopath — that he needed love and emotional support, someone to be on _his_ side. And it had been only too easy for Mira to give him that. To be that person who saw him as he was — who accepted his past, but also saw that he was _trying, damn it_ , and that he was hurting, and acknowledged his pain and his efforts.

She hadn't offered him absolution — he simply wouldn't accept it if she were to forgive him for all the death and pain he had caused before he was ready to forgive himself — but she could and had tried to help him see that the path to redemption wasn't one overwhelmingly large, impossible step. That he _had_ changed, made progress toward becoming the person he wanted to be. That regardless of whether Buffy would call him a _good_ man, he was certainly still a _better_ man than he had been in the past.

She'd won him over and then turned around and (because unlike Buffy, Mira _was_ that cruel) used his desperate need for love and understanding and _someone who cared_ against him.

How could he not hate her? _She_ would hate herself, if she were in his position.

She should apologise. She should—

The front door opened and closed softly. Someone headed up the stairs, their steps heavy, tired. Buffy, most likely. Bella didn't twitch, which was probably the surest sign Mira could hope for that she was actually asleep.

_Damn it_. If she'd still been awake, Mira could have convinced herself that she should stay, that it was more important to be here with Bella than face the music with Liam. It would still be a lie — Bella would tell her to go deal with Liam so maybe she could stop being all ridiculously anxious whenever she thought about him — but she knew it was easier for Bella to get to sleep when she could focus on Mira lying beside her, rather than the irregular sounds of the world beyond their bed. Cupboard. Whatever. (Mira had once asked Tom what it felt like to be Bella, and the answer was _awful_. It was no wonder she could never relax, too aware of everything going on around her, down to minor fluctuations in ambient magic, literally all the time.)

And if she couldn't convince herself she should be here, that Bella needed her (albeit under a very loose interpretation of the word _need_ ), she couldn't convince herself that she _didn't_ need to go talk to Liam, that what was done was done, and there was nothing she could do to fix things with him because she had _absolutely betrayed him_ , and _how the hell could he not hate her?_ She'd seen the look on his face when he'd fled the basement — he couldn't have been more hurt and horrified if she'd pulled out a stake and _literally_ stabbed him in the heart!

_Damn it, Bella, why did you have to tell me that..._

She _had_ convinced herself (mostly) that she didn't care, that it was awful, but necessary, and yes, it hurt that she'd had to sever the connection between them like that and knowing that there was someone out there in the world _hating_ her, and it was all her fault, but at least it was a clean break, and they could _move on_ , and now...

Damn _it!_

She had to do it. Had to go talk to him. It was going to drive her mad if she didn't, lying here, trying to ignore the knowledge that maybe his feelings for her _were_ salvageable, and if she didn't talk to him, she'd never _know_ , Bella couldn't actually be trusted to evaluate people's feelings for each other, and Liam could have lied. And if he _hadn't_ , she _definitely_ needed to talk to him, because if there was any chance at all that he _wouldn't_ hate her and she just let it _slip away_...

And she _knew_ she'd feel better if she just _knew_ , one way or the other — uncertainty was even worse in its own way than _knowing_ someone despised her. Being hated _hurt_ , but it was still a known variable she could work with, if she had to. Deliberately abstaining from finding out _if_ someone hated her or not was like cursing herself in the foot almost as badly as making someone hate her in the first place, she couldn't do it, she had to—

She sighed, exiting the cupboard as quietly as she could. (Not entirely silently, but Bella didn't stir, so, good enough.)

Sometimes Mira really hated herself.

Like when she stepped out onto the front porch, and Liam, who had been sitting alone on the steps, the bright tip of a lit cigarette smouldering in one hand, scrambled warily to his feet.

She'd known he would be out here, if he was still here at all. There were half a dozen girls sleeping in every other room of the bloody house, and Buffy didn't like him to smoke inside anyway.

"Hey," she offered weakly, voice shaking. _Damn it, Mirabella, pull yourself together!_ "I, um... I wanted to say thank you, for coming to rescue me tonight."

"Didn't come for you," he said, giving her a stubborn scowl. "Couldn't let Buffy and the Slayerettes just run headlong into a trap, could I?"

_Okay, I deserved that_. "And, um... I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have... Maybe I shouldn't have enthralled you like I did. But you know why I did it. And..." And he wasn't giving her a bloody thing, just standing there, frozen, all unnaturally still, she couldn't tell _what_ he was thinking or if she was getting through to him, and—

_No. This isn't about telling him what he wants to hear, this is about telling him the truth._

She closed her eyes to avoid the temptation to shift course if he _did_ give her the slightest hint she was headed in the wrong direction. (Or the right one.) _Fuck_ , that made this even harder... She took a deep, shuddering breath, and tried again. "I'm... I'm not sorry I decided to do it, or that I stopped you from killing me, I know you know that too, but I am sorry I had to hurt you to do it, and I don't expect you to forgive me, I wish I hadn't had to, and I just... I wanted you to know that."

She braced herself against his response. When it didn't come, she opened her eyes to see him leaning on the porch-rail, watching her all...inscrutably.

"Say something, damn it! Er, please, I mean," she added, as she realised she'd said that aloud.

"You're..." _bloody evil? a despicable person? the most manipulative, untrustworthy bitch I've ever had the misfortune to meet? the last person I ever want to speak to again, kindly go die in a fire?_ "... _really_ bad at this."

A snort of startled, relieved laughter escaped her. "What?"

"Is this supposed to be, like, an apology, here? 'Cos if so, yeah, bloody terrible."

"Yes, well, that's what happens when you're trying to apologise for something you'd do exactly the same, if you had the choice not to. I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't want to, but I _had_ to. I'm sorry we ever ended up in that situation to begin with, I'm sorry I made you hate me—"

"I don't hate you," he interrupted.

"You... _How?_ "

"You... I tried to kill you. The— When Red and I tripped the switch, pulled the trigger, whatever. If you hadn't stopped me..." He took another long drag, let it out slow, staring moodily at the smoke, twisting in the dim, indirect light of the nearest streetlamp. "She could make me do it. Kill you. Whenever she wanted. Can't help thinking...maybe that was her plan all along. Make me kill the littles, make me kill _Dawn..._ Make Buffy kill _me_ , use me to break her. And _you_..."

He paused for a long moment. Long enough for Mira to grow anxious again. She _had_ started to think it sounded like, just maybe, he did understand, but—

"You saw that, didn't you? About ten seconds after you got here. 'S how _you_ would do it, if _you_ were trying to destroy the Slayer. So you did what you could to...to disarm the bomb. Stop me going off and bloody slaughtering the lot of you. And it's a bit unnerving that's how you think, yeah, and bloody _cold_ , but...it probably wasn't a bad idea. And it's not your fault you managed it."

"Er..."

"Mira. I've been dead about...eight times longer than you've been alive. This is my hundred and _fiftieth_ year on this earth. I might be a sap, but I'm not exactly some naive young lad you've taken advantage of, here." He gave her a wry smirk, dropping down to sit on the steps again, nodding at the space beside him as though to say _join me_.

She did, hardly daring to breathe lest she somehow mess up this miraculous turn of events.

"I think you're bloody terrifying, taking me over like that, and like I said, colder and harder than I am, to've pulled it off...but I don't hate you. Hate _myself_ a bit, maybe, tricking myself into seeing what I wanted to see in you, thinking you cared, but—"

"It wasn't a trick," she blurted out, entirely unable to stop herself. "I– I do care about you. I just—" She cut herself off, uncertain what she was trying to say. _I just don't care enough not to use your feelings against you, if I have to?_ She hugged her knees to her chest, trying not to get too defensive.

Liam nodded. "You've just got your head on straight, luv. Priorities. Sense before sensibility and all that."

He held the fag out like a peace offering. She scooted a little closer to take it, his cold fingers brushing against hers, and breathed in deeply, holding the smoke in her lungs — she coughed on the exhale though. She didn't smoke, really. She _had_ on occasion (usually with Tom or Adara), but it wasn't something she'd do alone, for her own pleasure. Made her throat all dry and scratchy.

"I—" She broke off to clear her throat.

"You're almost as bad at smoking as you are at apologies?"

"Ooh, shut up. I just... I'm sorry I'm not...what you thought I was, I guess. There's a part of me that _is_ , and I _like_ being her, the girl who's all soft and kind and whatever you want her to be — an island of innocence and sincerity in a sea of darkness and lies — and betraying your trust is like killing her, and part of me _hates_ myself for doing it, for _being able_ to do it, but..."

"But you'll do it anyway, if it needs to be done." Liam sighed, plucking the cigarette back out of her idle fingers. "Look at us — couple of sad saps, being all mature and miserable and shite."

Mira snorted. "Bella would say maturity is _vastly_ overrated." Either that or, _ew, emotions_.

Liam chuckled, blowing a smoke-ring out into the night. "Can't say I disagree. On the whole, I think I'd rather have you holding my chain than Hot Shite or the bloody _Initiative_ , if that helps."

"It does, actually." She leaned into his side, letting her head fall on his shoulder. His arm came up to wrap around her, pulling her in closer in a way that felt like forgiveness. "Thank you."

"Eh?" He craned his neck a bit, trying to catch a glimpse of her face, tucked into his arm as she was.

She stretched up to kiss him, almost instinctively. Certainly not out of any manipulative intent, for once. She wasn't even really trying to get in his pants, honestly. Tonight, this, the miracle of him _not hating her_ — of him being willing to just...sit here, holding her — that was enough.

"Thank you. You're a good man, William Pratt. And I just... Thank you, that's all."


	35. Call in the Cavalry

"Alright, this is it," Faith announced, pulling up to Buffy's house on Revello Drive. According to Angel, she still lived here. Not surprised, somehow. Practically nothing had changed in the past four years — they'd even rebuilt the high school after Giles blew it up.

If _Faith_ lived in Sunnydale, she'd want to GTFO ASAP — she _had_ wanted to get out pretty much the entire time she was here — but everyone knew she was the Bad Slayer. Buff would probably never leave, this _was_ the Hellmouth, after all. Easier to do her job here than anywhere else.

She slipped out of the car maybe a little on the fast side, but could anyone blame her? She'd been trapped in there with Tom fucking Riddle and his creepy kid for just over two hours. They'd spent most of the drive arguing about Luz, for all the good it did. The _evil mind-controlling goddess_ was out of the bag, and it wasn't exactly like they could track her down and shove her back in. Not now that Riddle had made _sure_ she could use her mind-control powers on _everyone_. Faith _definitely_ didn't trust his decision — which he hadn't discussed with anyone else, by the way — to make her promise not to actually enslave the entire goddamn world and then just _let her go_ , even _after_ Cordelia said it was probably the best thing he could've done.

Apparently Cordelia fucking Chase was a god, now? Well, more like an angel, Faith thought. Fucking "Ascended" or whatever? If Riddle summoning her spirit to prove her body was definitely brain-dead and not salvageable wasn't some kind of trick — which Faith _totally_ wasn't ruling out, because what kind of stupid Powers That Be would make Sunnydale High's chief mean-girl an _actual angel_? (Angel said she'd changed _a lot_ in the past couple years, but Faith wasn't sure she believed it. Wes had actually gotten _hot_ , so apparently anything was possible, but.)

The least ridiculous thing about the whole idea was, she wasn't even very good at it. The one thing arguing that Riddle _wasn't_ tricking them somehow by calling her up for a chat, he'd seemed legit shocked that she had no idea how to "influence" events, or where her power came from, or what it even _meant_ to "ascend". (Which apparently wasn't the same as what Mayor Wilkins had done back in the day, even if it was called the same thing — it would actually _make sense_ if someone had turned Cordy into a giant snake-demon-thing.) And like, _super_ disappointed in her. And the Powers. Like, if they were going to pick _anyone_ to use as a supernatural ventriloquist's dummy and then promote to being a creepy peeper in the sky, why not someone who actually knew what the hell they were doing? (Like, oh...maybe Riddle himself? Definitely sensing a note of jealousy in that little rant.) Or at least _tell her_ , give her the run-down on what gods and Powers and "elevated souls" _were_. (He ended up giving a totally _Giles-like_ lecture on the subject, Faith wasn't even surprised to learn that his day job was _professor_.)

Seriously, though. Who was to say Luz wouldn't find some magic thingamabob or whatever that stopped her from getting sucked back into space if she broke that no-enslaving-humanity promise of hers? She'd been _really_ pissed with Riddle for trapping her into it, if Faith was her, that would be like, priority numero uno, just on principle. (But then, Faith always had had "authority issues" — people telling her she couldn't do something was pretty much a giant flashing _cool shit here_ sign, in her experience.)

Angel wasn't too pleased with Riddle, either. Neither was his sneering little brat. Or...pretty much any of the L.A. crew, really. Forcing Fred to shoot his sacrifice? Not a great idea, as it turned out. Not only did it absolutely demonstrate that he was still hella dangerous, anti-mind-reading amulets or no, Fred was like the darling of the group. Wes and Gunn both wanted to sleep with her, and Angel and Lorne... Getting lost in some demon dimension for like five years made her go a little loco for a while, apparently. Faith had picked up some definite holdover everyone-take-care-of-the-crazy-girl vibes there, even if Little Miss Texas seemed pretty over it and just like, _enormously nerdy_. (Cleaned up nice, but still, nerd.)

No one had been at _all_ disappointed that Riddle wanted to move on, get to Sunnydale and find the girls he was looking for and get the hell back to his own universe already. That whole deal with Luz wasn't even close to the reason he was here, just the 'toll' he had to pay for 'this little interdimensional jaunt' 'unfortunately' — _unfortunately_ because he anticipated convincing one of the girls, Bella, to go back was going to be 'a far more formidable challenge' than corrupting a crazy Power That Was, which he claimed was pretty much just Tuesday, all exasperated about it. That was _probably_ a joke, his kid had gone all giggly over it, but he very clearly wasn't at all intimidated by Luz or basically-an-actual-angel Cordy, so... Not totally sure.

Also? The kid? Lily? Totally creepy. Now, granted, Faith wasn't too familiar with the average six-year-old, but she was _pretty sure_ most of them weren't that...quiet. Or, well, she wasn't quiet to start out, she _had_ told Faith all about her sister being mean to her and her imaginary friends bringing her here to meet her real father with her undead birthday cat — apparently when she was sitting there with her eyes closed, she was using mind-control to try to make it act like a real cat (Faith was sensing a theme here) — but she'd obviously realized that Faith was...less than comfortable with that subject, and after that she'd just...stopped talking. Which was even more unnerving.

She'd spent most of the two-hour drive up here just...watching Faith. Through the cat. The actual kid looked pretty much like she was asleep back there, bored by the small-talk her father had been making with Faith, asking her about the places she'd lived before Sunnydale, which was...kind of nice? Most people asked her about prison or what she was in for or what it was like being the Slayer or what her deal was with Buffy. Also, kind of uncomfortable — the last person who'd taken any real interest in her life (before Angel) was Mayor Wilkins.

"Hellooo," Faith called, knocking even as she opened the front door. They still didn't lock it.

There was a boy with oven mitts on the other side of it, looked like he'd been fumbling to open it without taking them off for some reason. His eyes went wide as he apparently recognized her. Let out a little gasp, too. " _Faith!_ "

"Do I know you?" He looked like he was a couple years younger than her, she didn't really recognize _him_ , but...

"Guys! They're here! Faith's here!"

"No, seriously, who are you?"

"I'm Andrew, I'm the _general factorum_ of the household."

Riddle snorted. "General _factotum_ , Mister Wells."

"Do I know you? Are you a friend of my brother's?"

"No, and no."

"Tom!" Faith didn't recognize that one, either — a tall brunette in her late teens — but she was guessing from the Daisy Dukes and the way she threw herself on the mindreading British warlock with a desperate kiss that this would be Mirabella, the teenage nympho. (As opposed to the violent little monkey — the First Evil hadn't been exactly _complimentary_ describing Buffy's demonic visitors to Faith.) "Thank God! You've come to rescue me!"

"Mimi. What possessed you to go on holiday with Bella in the first place?" Riddle asked, clearly amused.

"I _thought_ we were just going for a bloody walk! And then we were in the Crossroads, and some bazaar in maybe Istanbul? And then we were in hell — literal, monstrous grotesques trying to eat me _hell!_ And now we're _here_ , and she's picked a fight with a bloody _god_ , and _I want to go home,_ Tom! And Bella's just all, _I'm sure they have showers and sex in this dimension, Zee_ , as though those are the only things that matter— Stop laughing, you incomparable bastard!" She slapped him ineffectually on the shoulder. "This _isn't funny!_ " Then she gave a heavy sigh. " _Fine._ What?! How do you—? Okay, but we are _definitely_ having a talk when you've had a chance to catch up.

"Everyone, this is my lover, Tom Riddle; his daughter, Lily Evans; and Faith Lehane, the junior Slayer Andrew has been filling your heads with nonsense about for the past four hours. And Lily's cat Nyx. Wait, really? _Nyx?_ Like the goddess? Oh, okay. So not only do you have a daughter I didn't know about, but she's a tiny bloody necromancer? I would say I'm surprised, but... Yes, yes, fine, later...

"Faith, Lily, I'm Mirabella Zabini. You've already met Andrew — yes, I did. ...Okay, but he _was_ calling himself their 'guest-age' — a portmanteau of _guest_ and _hostage_ — so I still think it's an improvement. Also, use your bloody words, Tom! You and Bella may not care if everyone thinks you're a couple of freaks, but legilimency isn't even a thing here, you're making me look insane!"

Riddle sniggered. "Apologies. Let me assure you all that Mimi is not nearly as mad as Bella and I make her look. Go on, Mimi."

She huffed at him. "From left to right we have Kelly, Dianne, Dominique, Shannon, Leanne, and Sarah. They're Potential Slayers, Bella could tell you more about what that actually _means_ , as you might imagine. There are fifteen of them here at the moment, most of them are out back with Buffy and Bella."

Riddle gave her a very disapproving look. "Surely you're not going to leave the introductions at _that_."

"No one stands on formality here, Tom. We're in America, and obviously standards of propriety have declined dramatically in the past thirty years. If you insist on calling them all by their surnames, you're going to come off as a bloody weirdo. So, yes. I am. Come out to the back garden so I can introduce you to everyone else," she added, turning and leading the way down the hall toward the kitchen and the back door. "Bella will be thrilled to see you."

The creepy kid skipped ahead to catch up with her, kitten padding obediently alongside her. "So...if you're Tom's girlfriend, does that make you like my step-mum?"

"No. Bella is definitely more step-mother material."

"Katie said Bella's like my sister."

"Katie?"

"Her real name's Hecate, but no one calls her that."

"I'm quite certain they do."

"Tom doesn't. He calls her Melanie."

"Melinoë."

"Yeah, Melanie. I thought it was a weird nickname, too, but gods can be weird sometimes. Tom said I should ask you what sex is."

"I'll tell you later."

"But—"

"After introductions, Lily. And then I need to have a word with Bella and Tom. But if you ask nicely, Tom might help me give you a demonstration after that," she suggested, throwing an evil glare at the man over her shoulder.

The girl stopped, waited a second or two for her father to catch up. "Tom! Will you help Mimi demonstrate sex? It's educational."

"No."

"But grown-ups _always_ do things when it's educational! Please?"

Okay, Faith was starting to come around on this whole creepy kid thing — that look on Riddle's face was _hilarious_.

He pulled himself together after a second, though, gave the kid a little sigh. "I expect I'll have a prior engagement. Ask Bella."

"What?!" Mirabella exclaimed. "No, don't ask Bella, she'll say yes!"

"But I thought you said... Grown-ups are so _confusing_... Faith, do _you_ know what sex is?"

Wait, what? _Shit!_ Oh, wait... "Nope. I bet Buffy does, though. She's the short blonde lady outside telling everyone else what to do. Go ask her."

"That was _cruel_ , Miss Lehane," Riddle murmured under his breath as they followed his daughter and her cat out the back door.

She'd run ahead to ask her question, and Buffy, standing in front of a little square of girls practicing tai chi or some shit, was positively scarlet. "Eh, I stole her body once. Compared to that, siccing your kid on her is nothing. She'll get over it.

"Hey, Buff!" she shouted across the yard. "Long time, no see! Miss me?"

"Faith, I might _actually_ kill you this time!"

Yep, same old Sunnydale.


	36. This Family is Really Weird

It hadn't taken Lily very long at all to realise that her new family was _really weird_. Tom, of course, was a mind-reader and Katie's friend and kind of a snake-person, but that wasn't really what made the _family_ weird. That was more...

Well, _most_ families just had a mum and dad, right? But Tom had Mimi _and_ Bella. And Mimi kissed him when he got there, and Bella just said hi and started telling him all about everything they'd done since the last time they'd seen him, and Mimi looked a lot older, so that _should_ make Mimi the mum, right?

But Mimi said Bella was more the mum, and Tom said they were the same age, and Katie said before that Bella was kind of Tom's daughter, but she couldn't be both his daughter and his wife, and Tom said Mimi was his girlfriend and Bella was his apprentice. Mimi said Bella was her girlfriend and Tom was her lover, which was basically boyfriend, except Tom wasn't a boy, he was a (snake)man, and they weren't really _dating_ like boyfriends and girlfriends, and mentor, which was kind of like a teacher (she didn't have a good reason she didn't just say teacher), and she and Bella were _both girls_ (even if Bella didn't really _look_ like a girl, everyone talked about her like she was), so...

Tom sighed. "We're just confusing her more."

"Well, fine, then. Bella, you haven't had a turn yet — you explain!"

Bella giggled. "But you and Tom are doing such a good job."

"I second Mimi's suggestion. You're the only one of the three of us who knows how to deal with children."

"Ugh, fine. You're both just making it far too complicated. Lily. Tom is your sire, your biological father. He's been my teacher since I was just a little older than you, so he's more like my father than my lover, even though we do have sex sometimes — that's what lover means, people who have sex on a recurring or regular basis. Zee — Mimi — and I are intimate companions. Best friends and lovers. She's also Tom's concubine, basically."

"Muggles—" That was normal, not-magic people, Lily knew. "—would say _mistress_ , Bella. Not concubine," Mimi corrected her.

"We're not muggles, and I'm not calling you Tom's mistress. Concubine is accurate." Mimi pouted. "A lover who isn't married to him, and isn't publicly recognised as being in a relationship with him, so she doesn't have any relationship with his family, and he doesn't have one with hers, either. He's also been her teacher for the last four years or so."

"Okay...so which one of you is like my step-mum?"

"That's a second-marriage parent, right?"

Tom nodded.

"Neither one of us. Tom isn't married. You don't have a stepmother."

"But Mimi said..."

"Zee said I'm more _like_ a step-mum because my own mother has no interest in _being_ a mother, so I've been taking care of my younger sisters since I was younger than you. You should think of me as a half-sister — a sister who only shares one parent with you — because I do have my own family who have nothing to do with you, and Zee as my closest friend."

So kind of like Petunia and Suzie, then? They spent all their time together, mostly at Sue's house. "But you said she's Tom's...something. And she kissed him."

"Yes, but that relationship also has nothing to do with you, so you don't need to worry about it. In fact, it's kind of a secret, so don't talk about it."

Okay. She...thought she understood that. Maybe.

"Better explain the Malfoys, too, while you're at it," Tom suggested.

Bella rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll just do everyone, shall I? Tom is Candidus Malfoy's long-time companion. Kind of like what Zee is to me, that's what Tom is to Candy. Except Candidus is married, so where I'd take Zee to a ball or whatever, Candy would take Ananda. Tom is also godfather to Candy's son, Abraxas, which basically makes them brothers, so you can think of Candy as an uncle. Brax is older than Zee and me. He has a wife and son of his own, Melete and Lucius, who's ah...three or four years older than you? They'd all be cousins to you. More or less."

Lily didn't really have any cousins, so that didn't mean much of anything.

"Adara is Zee's aunt, and Tom's kind-of former suitress."

"Girlfriend," Mimi corrected her. "I'll let you have 'companion', but _no one_ uses 'suitress'. You sound like you're from the Seventeen-Hundreds."

"Fine, _girlfriend_. Muggle terms are so unspecific, though. I mean, you could call _us_ girlfriends, or Tom and Candy boyfriends—" Oh, good, Lily had kind of thought that was what _companions_ meant. "—even though we're not really courting, and girlfriend doesn't really make it clear that Adara was definitely more the one courting Tom."

"You're the one who said we were making it too complicated!"

"Using fewer words is the opposite of simplifying when you're using the _same_ word to refer to multiple different things, Zee."

"Giving a six-year-old who _isn't_ an omniglot a slew of new vocabulary and expecting her to keep up is ridiculous, Bella. At least she's already familiar with the concept of a boyfriend or girlfriend."

"I already said _fine_ , didn't I?" Bella pouted at Mimi for a second, then firmly turned back to Lily, shifting a little so she couldn't see Mimi except maybe out of the corner of her eye. " _Anyway_ , Tom got bored with Adara, but she doesn't want to break things off, so their relationship is in a weird, liminal place even without terminological vagueness." She made a sort of waffling motion with one hand, which probably meant the weird place was just as unclear as the meaning of that last sentence.

 _Indeed_ , Tom thought at her, laughing silently. (That meant _yes_.) "She's currently framing me for murder, and therefore significantly less boring than I thought. I may have to reconsider ending that relationship."

Bella sniggered. "Fine. Still Tom's sui— _girlfriend_ , then."

"Wait, so... Tom has a boyfriend _and_ a girlfriend? But...I thought you could only have _one_ boyfriend..." Petunia said so, at least. And then if you liked him enough and he had a good job, you married him and moved the heck out of Cokeworth. (If you didn't or he was too poor, you dumped him and found a better one.) Which also reminded her, "And aren't boys just supposed to have _girl_ friends?"

"You can only have one legal consort in Britain — husband or wife — and they have to be the opposite sex, but that's because marriage is about producing legitimate children, which requires a male and a female, and limiting it to just the minimum required two cuts down on confusion and familial complications. Outside of that, relationship conventions are just social norms that libertines like Tom and Zee — and Adara, for that matter — simply don't hold with. They think it's silly, only having one romantic and/or sexual relationship at a time and since neither of them wants to get married or have kids, it doesn't really matter if their partners are boys or girls, does it?"

Bella talked really fast and used a lot of big words, but her tone made it clear that the right answer was _no_. "I...guess not? What about you?"

Bella blinked at her. "What about me?"

"You said Tom and Mimi are..."

"Libertines," Bella reminded her.

Lily nodded. "But not you."

"Oh. I don't really care about romance or sex, or relationships based on them. On my end...Zee and I keep each other more or less sane, and I think I said, I'm Tom's apprentice. He's like...sixty per cent responsible for me being the person I am today. That's why I said he's more like a parent to me than a lover."

(Which was also kind of confusing, because Lily had kind of been substituting _boyfriend_ for _lover_ , and you couldn't be your own dad's girlfriend, she was pretty sure.)

Tom did the eye-rolling, sighing thing. "If you keep saying I'm like a parent to you, you're going to have to explain the concept of incest, too."

Yeah, Lily didn't know what that was, but she was distracted from asking because Bella raised an eyebrow at him and said...

"Eat your own tail and die?" Lily repeated. That was kind of a weird thing to say... Did Tom actually have a tail?

All of the grown-ups just kind of stared at her for a second before Bella said, "That basically means _piss off_ , in Tom's secret magical snake language. Shite, now I'm going to have use...I don't know, Farsi, or something, if I want to insult you privately." She paused for a brief moment, then said, "So, learn?" ... "Not if Adara's still going to be around. Speaking of whom, she's probably the most socially acceptable relationship he has, since she's only fifteen years younger than him and not married to anyone else. She prefers that I think of her as specifically _the fun aunt_ , I assume that also applies to you."

"I'm pretty sure that's because she's _my_ aunt, not because of her relationship with Tom," Mimi said.

Bella shrugged. "Either way, I don't think she'd object?" Mimi shrugged back. "Right, then. Adara's the fun aunt. Candy's the kind of priggish uncle, Brax and his family are cousins, I'm your half-sister, and Zee is my companion. I think the only other person who really has a significant, pseudo-familial, romantic, or sexual relationship with Tom is Angel."

"Wait, what?" Angel, _vampire_ Angel?

"Different Angel," Tom said quickly, then explained to Bella and Mimi, "There's a vampire called Angel in Los Angeles. We've been staying with him for the last week or so."

"Oh. Angie, then — Tom's _actual_ mistress. She's what we call an Avatar of the Dark, a once-human vessel of my family's patron deity, which is also the Aspect of Magic with the best claim on Tom's soul. She's been about eighteen for the last five-hundred years or so and calls me her sister because we devoted ourselves to the Powers under the same Covenant and we're both shadowkin — not quite human. She fancies Tom in a non-sexual, favourite human on the planet way. Admires his art. Likes to make him escort her to Unseelie Court parties and otherwise generally play the part of a devoted suitor, even though they're not actually courting, it's just a game. You can think of her as Tom's closest friend. They're kind of adorable together. And _fun_."

"They also tend to be kind of _terrifying_ together," Mimi said. "Never eat or drink anything Angel gives you, Lily."

Tom chuckled. "Out of all the things you could warn her about when it comes to Angie, _that's_ the one you pick?"

"Cannibalism is a line I didn't want to cross, Tom! And I really don't trust you two not to accidentally poison Lily because you're drunk on wanton destruction and you think it will be funny to see a seven-year-old high on Wyrm or something."

"...Point taken."

Wait, did that mean he thought he _might_ accidentally _poison_ her? And what was _cannibalism?_

 _I_ did _tell you I'd be a terrible parent. And cannibalism is eating other humans._

_WHAT?!_

Tom didn't answer, other than a sort of _yes, really_ feeling. That was _horrible!_

"Didn't she give you an orgy to make up for the Sashimi Incident?"

"That's not the point, Bella. The point is, Angel shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a small child."

"What's an orgy?" Lily asked, trying not to think about _eating people_.

Tom and Mimi exchanged a weird look, but Bella said, "A bunch of people having sex with each other at the same time. Usually people who don't know each other very well, or actual strangers. There's no real set number, but...I'm gonna say...six or more."

"Okay. So, what's sex? Tom said to ask Mimi, and she said to ask you."

Bella blinked, turning to Tom and Mimi for a second. "But sex is your _thing_."

"Bella, she's _six!_ I don't do _children!_ "

Bella rolled her eyes. "Well you don't have to give her a hands-on demonstration, Zee! It's not like it's _complicated_."

"Well, if it's so easy, _you_ do it, then!"

Bella rolled her eyes again. "Fine. Lily, you know how you have a vagina, and boys have penises?"

Lily nodded.

"When you grow up, your body changes so you can have babies. At some point, it will start to feel really good to touch your vagina. Same thing for boys with their penises. Sex is when two or more people get together to make each other feel good by touching each other like that."

"Oh. That's...kinda silly. Why does everyone act like it's some big secret?"

"They don't like to talk to kids about it because they know how ridiculous and gross it sounds to anyone who doesn't know how good it feels." She turned back to Tom and Mimi, who both looked slightly embarrassed. "See? Not difficult. Any other you're-totally-overthinking-it questions you need me to answer, while we're at it?"

"I have one," Mimi said. "What are we supposed to do with her when we get home? You're not going to bring her to the _school_ are you, Tom?"

"I don't know, yet. Probably? Honestly, I haven't gotten that far. I don't even know how one goes about legally adopting a biological child you never knew you had. And one raised in the muggle world at that."

"If she's registered as a muggleborn, which I'm sure she is, you'll need to do a lineage test to prove she's yours, and talk to the Office of Child Welfare in the Muggle Liaison Department about becoming her primary guardian. They'll deal with the muggle government and transferring her citizenship, though they might make you go get her foster parents to sign some forms first. You know, just to make it officially clear you're not kidnapping her from the muggle family her mother placed her with."

Both Tom and Mimi just kind of stared at Bella for a long moment. "Why do you even know that?" Mimi asked.

"I _was_ the Heir to the House of Black for the better part of a decade. Adoption procedures are one of the areas where the House Law and British law conflict in weird ways, so I had to memorise them a few years ago. Even the ones that aren't relevant to the House of Black at all." Bella shrugged. "And as for what we do with her, foster her with Walburga, same as Cissy. Archie won't like it, but he can go fuck himself."

"Does that mean not living with Tom?" Lily asked.

"Yes. It would mean living with my Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion, their kids, Sirius and Regulus, and my sister, Narcissa. Siri and Cissy are your age. Well, Cissy's almost seven—"

"Speaking of which," Tom interrupted, "Andromeda asked me to remind you that if you miss Narcissa's seventh birthday, she'll never forgive you."

Bella winced. "I know, I know. We were always going to have to find some way to get back thirty-five years, I figure we can knock a few more months off, it'll be fine."

"How did you get here in the first place, Tom?" Mimi asked, distracting the other grown-ups from where Lily was going to live, which she thought was _kind of_ _important_.

"Do you recall Wolfram and Hart? the interdimensional law firm?"

"Yes, of course. Didn't we go to some gala they hosted last summer?"

"Mmm, yes. Apparently this is their home dimension."

While Tom went on to explain everything about Mesektet and Milo and Luz and the deal Lady Luck made with Mesektet and Katie and Seffie, and then about Luz and the Angel Formerly Known As Cordelia (which was what Lorne called her, Lily didn't get the joke), and everything that had happened in the last week or so, Lily went back to playing with Nyx, thinking about if she wanted to live with a bunch of other kids she'd never met.

She kind of thought no? Maybe magic kids would be different, but most kids didn't like Lily. Which was fine at school — no one wanted to play with her, but that was fine, she could play with Katie and Seffie. But actually living with people who didn't like her, _all the time_... She didn't think she'd like that.

Especially kids. Grown-ups mostly just ignored her. Kids were mean sometimes, though. Like Petunia.

Besides, Katie said Tom was supposed to raise her so she could learn how to...not seem so weird, to other, boring people. She didn't say anything about any Walburga or Orion. Lily would remember if she had, they were really weird names.

She was getting a little better at not actually _being_ Nyx. She still had to _watch_ the kitten if she wanted it to actually do anything, but she'd figured out that she didn't have to do _everything_ for her. There was a sweet spot between paying too much attention and seeing the world as a cat, and not paying enough attention and Nyx going back to sleep, where Nyx kind of just...did cat things automatically, like hide under chairs and jump out at shadows, or anything else that moved. Which included Bella's fingers.

They were sitting in a corner of the family room to talk, everyone else kind of just ignoring them, walking by like they couldn't see them — Lily thought Tom might be doing that on purpose somehow to give them some privacy. Tom was sitting in a chair, and Mimi was sitting with him, kind of — on the arm of the chair, but kind of leaning back and stretched out and curled around him like _she_ was a cat. But Bella was on the floor with Lily and Nyx. She was stretching, earlier, before Tom and Mimi decided that she should do the explaining (she had done a much better job than they had — it helped knowing Lily didn't need to worry about the most confusing parts of the family because they didn't have anything to do with her), but now she was just sitting, fingers tapping at the rug like she was bored, and also like she was playing an invisible piano or something.

Nyx pounced at her before Lily realised what she was doing, and Bella was holding her in the air by the scruff of her neck before Lily could say, "Sorry."

"What for?" She looked closer at the kitten. A sort of cold, sparkly feeling washed over Nyx, tingling in Lily's chest for a second. Bella turned to blink at her. "Is this a False-Lazarus Resurrection?" When Lily didn't answer, she changed the question. "Is your familiar dead?"

"No! She _was_ dead, but Seffie said I could keep her, so now she's not."

"And Seffie is...?"

"Persephone," Lily said carefully. She never called Seffie by her real name, because the first time she introduced herself Lily called her Per-Stephanie, and Katie made fun of her and it was really embarrassing. "She's my imaginary friend."

Bella giggled. "What makes you say that? Last I checked, Kore's just as real as we are — maybe more."

"Kore?"

"The Maiden. Young woman. That's what the Ancient Greeks called her," she explained, scratching the top of Nyx's head and making her purr. "They didn't like to use her name when they were talking about her and maybe catch her attention, but that just made Kore become her name, too."

"Oh. That's silly."

"Not as silly as calling her imaginary."

"Mum said she is. And Katie. Hecate, I mean."

"Uh- _huh_. What do you think imaginary means?"

"Er...only real to me? And Tom, I guess, since he's friends with Katie, too."

Bella laughed at her again. "No, it means your mother thinks you made them up, that they're just stories in your head, and not real at all." ... _Oh._ That...kind of explained a lot. "She's wrong. Most people — even magical people — don't believe in them anymore, but they're real. Do you belong to Persephone?"

"Er...what do you mean?"

"Mmm... She talks to you, in dreams or like a little voice at the back of your mind? tells you secrets and asks you to do things sometimes?"

"She talks to me in dreams, mostly. Katie, too. But they don't ask me to do things. Sometimes Katie tells me secrets or shows me how to do something magic. Seffie just kind of looks out for me. And she gave me Nyx." Her eyes flicked back down to the kitten, now perched on Bella's knee, licking something off her fingers. It tasted cold and tingly when Lily focused on Nyx, and made her want to run and jump and maybe scratch something, but she wanted to lap up more of it just a little more than she wanted to do any of those things. "What's that? What are you doing to her?"

"It's magic. I'm feeding her. You're little. Far be it from me to question Seffie's judgment, but you don't really have enough magic in you to support another life-spark yet. Not even a tiny little kitten spark. And she's hungry and doesn't know how to hunt for herself yet, so I'm letting her have a little of my magic."

"Tom said I don't have to feed her, she'll just stay small."

"You don't have to feed her _actual food_ , she won't _die_. And no, she won't grow without physical food. But if you teach her how to hunt, like bugs and mice and things, their life-energy will help sustain her so you don't have to keep pushing magic into her all the time. She probably will eat them too, though, so I guess if you're starving her on purpose to keep her tiny..."

"No! I'm not _starving_ her to keep her little!" Lily objected, horrified. That would be an _evil_ , bad cat-owner thing to do! "I just didn't know! Seffie didn't say! _Or_ Tom!"

"Tom probably doesn't know, either. He was raised by muggles too, and it's not like having an undead familiar is really very common. I only know because my aunt had an undead budgie when I was about your age."

"Okay, wait. Hold on, Tom. Bella, did you just say Walburga has an undead budgie?" Mimi asked, sounding like she didn't believe it, though Lily didn't see _why_. If she could have an undead cat, why shouldn't Bella's aunt have an undead bird? "Every time I think the House of Black can't get any weirder..."

"That was Aunt Lori, actually — she married in. And she doesn't anymore. Not sure what happened to it. Walburga hates birds. She won't even let their owls out of the aviary."

"That's the one you said I should go live with, right?"

"Yep. She actually likes kids. She'll be _thrilled_ to have another foster-daughter."

"But... I wanna stay with Tom. And Katie said I could..."

"Really? Tom, have you done something to annoy Hecate lately?" Mimi asked.

Tom sighed. "Nothing in particular. She's simply concerned that Lily is going to turn out _odd_ if left with her muggles."

"And her solution to this problem was to give her to _you_?"

"I _did_ point out the inherent irony. But I _am_ her father, apparently — and we _will_ be having a talk about how that particular set of circumstances came about, Bellatrix—"

"What is there to talk about? Eris told me that I had to give her mother a chance. You should've known better than to trust that I'd obey you when I'd outright told you my Lady ordered me otherwise. And I was _nine!_ I'd never killed anyone before, you should've checked my work anyway. I'll take some responsibility for her existence, sure, but I'm pretty sure any actual blame is on you, here."

Tom ground his teeth, clearly annoyed, but apparently couldn't disagree, because he kind of just ignored Bella. "I've been directed to ensure that Lily can at least pass for eccentric," he said, before Lily could ask why he told Bella to kill her mother.

_She was a ritual sacrifice._

_You sacrificed a_ person _?!_ That was almost as bad as _eating_ a person!

 _No, I_ — _We don't have time to explain the nature of formal high ritual now. Ask me later._

"I'm not seeing the problem, here," Bella said, clicking her tongue impatiently. She set Nyx down so she could stand and pace. The kitten immediately took off running.

"Nyx!"

Bella snorted at her. "She'll come back. That's a thing cats do sometimes, running around like mad. Wally is perfectly capable of training a tiny sociopath to behave in a socially acceptable manner in public — Sirius passes for normal with outsiders at least eighty per cent of the time, and he's almost as bad as I was — and you don't know a damn thing about small children."

"Isn't it lucky, then, that I have you to help."

"It is. This is me, helping: We _can't_ take her to Hogwarts — I give it two days before she tells someone about her totally not imaginary friends, who tells Dumbledore she's a baby black mage, who gets _you_ up on charges before the Wizengamot for black magic and corrupting a minor, and you end up getting Kissed and chucked through the Veil. Lily ends up placed with some disgustingly light, progressive family to brainwash her into believing the Powers don't exist — possibly literally if he manages to swing special dispensation for the use of mind molding to adjust her behavioural inclinations. Which is actually fairly likely, given that the alternatives would be executing a six-year-old as a black mage, or letting her go off to continue becoming an ever larger 'inherent threat to the Statute and the Common Good'. Seventy-twenty-ten, rough estimate on those probabilities."

"I can just _not tell people_ about Katie and Seffie," Lily told her, slightly distracted as a tiny black blur tore through the room to disappear behind Tom's chair. She didn't really know what most of that meant, but it seemed bad, and it started with her telling people about them, so...

"If you could pull off _normal six-year-old_ well enough to avoid suspicion, Katie and Seffie wouldn't have brought you to Tom," Bella said, tugging Lily's ribbon out of her hair and handing it back to her. She looked at it for a second, confused, until Nyx sprinted out from under the chair to make a running leap at the dangling end of it. Oh.

Tom winced. " _Please_ don't call Kore that. She's going to smite you."

"She might smite _you_ for calling her pet names, but not even Percy expects respect from a dedicant of Eris. Or from the Blacks, actually. In any case, Lily—" _Huh? Oh, right._ She was distracted by Nyx getting a claw stuck in the ribbon. "—Tom doesn't know how to raise a kid. I can count on one finger the number of children under the age of eleven he's had any extensive contact with since _he_ was a kid—" She pointed at herself. "—and he didn't teach me basic shite like occlumency and focusing exercises and kiddie charms and basic transfiguration, or anything non-magical — reading and arithmetic and languages, history and politics and so on. He doesn't _know_ most of the manners and customs of the nobility of our Britain, he just cheats and reads people's minds to make sure he doesn't insult anyone accidentally. Or tweaks their memories so they don't remember when he does. No one at Hogwarts teaches that stuff, and there are no kids your age there."

" _So?_ " Lily pouted, jerking the ribbon away from Nyx's next pounce. "I don't care if there's other kids."

"So, you'll be bored, and thus inclined to continue summoning Katie and Seffie for company which isn't really something you should be doing around, you know, _people_. And you need lessons, anyway. Walburga can teach you along with Cissy and Siri and Reg, it's very convenient."

"But I don't wanna stop being friends with Katie and Seffie! And other kids don't like me!"

"What? Oh! None of the _Blacks_ will care if you're casually summoning gods to be your playmates. You just can't at Hogwarts, or anywhere else public — well, really, _really_ shouldn't. And Cissy and Siri don't like each other, either. You'll fit right in."

"Bella!" Mimi said, a surprised sort of laugh escaping her.

"What? It's true. And they're too evenly matched. Reggie's too little to make a difference siding with either of them. Throwing another foster-sibling into the mix to shake things up will be good for them. And humans are social animals, like wolves — kids need other kids around to play with or they turn out weird."

"She does have a point," Tom said, which, _No! Katie said I could stay with_ you _!_

 _Hecate said you didn't have to go back to your muggle family. She will almost certainly approve of me fostering you out to the Blacks. They are not only very good at turning out functional madmen, but they also have a reputation for being both fae and insane, which would give you a bit more leeway so far as 'eccentricity' goes. And if you're obviously a little_ too _close to Magic after five years in their care, most people will consider that the fault of the Blacks._

 _But_ —

 _I'm going to put this as bluntly as I possibly can, Lily. The Blacks are the closest thing Magical Britain has to royalty. I literally could not prepare you better for life than to arrange for you to be fostered by them. They're not kind people, it won't be an easy childhood, but it's not only the best option available, it's the best option_ period _. There is no more comprehensive primary education anywhere in Britain, no family more welcoming of naturally Dark children, and no House as deeply steeped in traditional magics. Being associated with them offers a degree of political protection that you do not have as my daughter, and given your deep and obvious connection to magic, it's entirely possible that they will begin grooming you to eventually marry young Sirius, who will be the next Lord of their House, if you get on to any degree to speak of. Which would place you, in two or three decades, at the head of the oldest, wealthiest, and most influential Family in Magical Britain. This is not the sort of opportunity one turns down without_ very _good reason. And that you are afraid your foster-siblings won't like you is_ not _a good reason._

Lily shut up, partly because the idea of being kind of a magic princess was just that shocking, but mostly because the tone of that last thought made it pretty darn clear Tom didn't care what she might have to say, this was what they were going to do. Also a little because Nyx surprised her while she was distracted talking to Tom, and got herself wrapped up in the ribbon, lying on her back trying to shred it. Lily couldn't grab it without getting scratched.

Mimi didn't know that, though, that Tom had already decided. She raised an eyebrow at him like _really?_ "And when Narcissa and Sirius object to a new sibling being dropped on them and ally against her?"

Bella laughed. "A, Cissy and Siri might both decide they hate her, but Cissy won't work with Siri even against a mutual enemy unless they're both getting completely flattened and B, learning to hold her own among them is kind of the point. Play-fighting as kids is practice for real fighting as adults. Same for learning to manipulate people and creating alliances, and pretty much every other social skill I was sadly lacking when we met. Like play-hunting for cats," she added, disentangling the kitten and giving the ribbon back to Lily.

"Thanks."

"Oh! That's Liam," Mimi said, changing the subject with a nod toward a blond man in a trenchcoat who had just walked into the room, asking one of the girls on the sofa something. "Let him see us, Tom," she demanded, slithering off his chair and skipping over to the man to link her arm through his. "Liam! There's someone I want you to meet!"

"Ah, you must be the _Tom_ character I've heard so much about," Mimi's friend said. He didn't sound very happy to be meeting him.

Tom smirked at him, getting up to shake his hand. "All good things, I'm sure. And you must be the vampire Mimi is so very enthusiastic about. Mister Pratt, isn't it?"

Somehow, Lily didn't think that was what Mister Pratt had been expecting him to say. "Ah, call me Spike. Mister Pratt was my father."

" _Spike?_ Do all vampires invent ridiculous sobriquets for themselves in this universe?" he asked Bella, not very quietly.

Mimi glared at him. "Leave off, Tom. Candidus told me about _Lord Volde_ —"

Tom winced. "Fine, fine. I would just like to point out that I was fourteen when I came up with that absurd moniker. I grew out of it."

"Zee calls him Liam, Tom," Bella volunteered. "Presumably because she feels silly saying 'oh, _Spike_ ' in the throes of passion."

"No, no, if he wants to be called Spike, I'll call him Spike. Though, on the subject of passionate moments, Mimi, subsuming energy from Bella might pep you up, but it's not a Blood-Replenishing Potion. I do hope you've been taking an iron supplement as well. Anemia is rather unpleasant, you know."

"Ehm...no. Oops? I'm fine, though," she assured both men, who were giving her almost exactly the same _I don't believe you_ look. "Bella's been using soulfire as a weapon!" she blurted out, clearly trying to get at least Tom to stop looking at her like that.

"And to keep you on your feet, obviously, which is its own problem. Bella, did Angel tell you what happens when you give someone more energy than they can assimilate?"

" _Yes_ , Tom. I'm not going to melt Zee's brain."

"Not more energy than they can physically channel, just more than they can swallow and integrate."

"Er...no? Is that a thing?"

"Yes, that's _a thing_. Especially when your magic is so much darker than hers. And soul-poisoning is even less pleasant than anemia. Though I suppose it _would_ be less noticeable when one is already unable to cast magic..."

" _Soul-poisoning?_ Damn it, Mira, I knew you shouldn't be giving me that much..."

"Oh, hush, Liam, I'm fine. Tom is being paranoid."

"I am not. Bella, do _not_ give Mimi any more energy until the dark edges around her aura warm up."

"Noted."

"Not that you should even be feeding the bloody cat at the moment, anyway," he continued, peering more closely at Bella. "What the hell did you do to be burning so low yourself? immolate an entire city block?"

"I hardly gave the cat anything. Its spark is barely enough to light a bloody candle, I gave it maybe a third of that. And _no_... Just healing. Kind of a _lot_ of healing. I might've gotten in a fight with a magically-enhanced, super-strong acolyte of the stupid wanna-be god that I'm...in the midst of a philosophical disagreement with—"

"I know you've weaseled your way into the conflict between the Slayer and the so-called First Evil, Bellatrix."

"Well, yes. That. Anyway, I got in a fight with this bastard and he kinda broke my back? Ah...twice. Along with three quarters of my ribs, and my right humerus. And cracked my skull, but that was along the squamous suture, barely counts. Also broke my nose. Shattered my right zygomatic and loosened half my teeth on the right side. Dislocated mandible and right shoulder. Bleeding in the liver from blunt-force trauma. Punctured left lung. A few dozen other minor bruises and contusions. Oh, and I broke a toe kicking him in the nads."

That...seemed like a lot, Lily thought. Especially for her to look as normal and not hurt as she did today. Not that she really looked _normal_. Mimi looked _normal_. She was really pretty, she could probably be on magazines or in movies or something so not _normal_ , normal, but...like a person. Bella kind of looked like an elf. She was much shorter than all the other adults — well, Buffy was only a _little_ taller, but most of them — and Lily was really bad at guessing ages, but she thought Bella looked like she was about the same age as Tuney's friend Suzie's older sister, who was twelve. Definitely not the same age as Mimi. And there was something weird about her face.

Well, two things. One, she was too... Lily didn't know what the word was. Pretty, but a sharp kind of pretty, and like it would be easy to break her. Like she had no business fighting anyone. Her hair was too dark and her skin was too white, kind of like Lily had thought a vampire would look before meeting Angel, and she was pretty sure there were little silver speckles in her black eyes. The other was, if Tom hadn't _told her_ that Bella was a girl, if people didn't talk about her as a _her_ , Lily didn't think she'd be able to tell. She _did_ have a boy's haircut, but boys weren't usually that pretty, but then, _people_ weren't that pretty, maybe boy elves _were_ that pretty. Bella was a girls' name, but so was Angel, and he was definitely not a girl. And there was something boy-ish about the way she walked, a sort of swaying confidence most girls didn't have, but also too smooth and graceful for a person. It was _very confusing_.

_Tom, is Bella an elf?_

Tom kept an impressively straight face, for how amused his response was. _Psychologically, perhaps._

_Huh?_

_No. She does admittedly look especially androgynous, fae_ — _not elvin_ — _and childlike, even for the Blacks, but her whole family is similarly striking. And yes, that_ is _a lot of damage for anyone to heal in such a short period of time, especially without healing spells to direct the energy put into it in the most productive ways. And in fact she is_ not _entirely healed. The life-threatening injuries have been fully repaired, broken bones healed to perhaps sixty per cent of their usual strength_ — _enough to move with care, but she's actually about as fragile as she looks at the moment. She's in a fairly significant degree of pain_ —

She really didn't look like she was in pain, Lily didn't think.

 _She's good at hiding it, but there's usually more bounce in her swagger. She also cannibalised healthy tissue to support her reconstructive efforts_ — _even when magic is used to speed the process beyond all natural limits, healing still requires physical materials to replace damaged cells, and she hasn't eaten enough to acquire all the necessary nutrients from external sources_ — _which means that all of her bones and muscles are far more fragile and weaker than usual, not just the ones that were actually damaged. She's also completely repaired all of the superficial damage not covered by her clothing, presumably to avoid alarming Mimi and avoid looking weak in front of the locals._

 _So she's still hurt?_ Lily was pretty sure that was what that meant.

_Yes. She needs to eat and rest before she can finish healing, which will likely take another week or so._

"Which wouldn't actually have taken nearly that much energy to heal, even with soulfire instead of healing charms, but I was in the middle of something, so I kind of transfigured myself back together like how Sarah showed me metamorphs work last summer?"

Tom was obviously surprised about that.

 _Because that's_ very impressive _. It requires either an innate understanding of one's own anatomy, as metamorphs have_ — _natural shape-shifters_ — _or a degree of awareness of one's own body bordering on impossible to maintain, and certainly not while 'in the middle of something' like a physical conflict. I suspect that were she not injured and completely exhausted from her efforts, she would be very noticeably manic at the moment, because even Bella can't do something like transfigure away multiple major injuries in the midst of a battle in her usual state of mind._

"And holding that for a few hours while actually healing everything enough to be getting on with wore me out."

"Bella! Why would you—? You could have _died!_ " Mimi let go of Spike long enough to slap Bella across the face.

She flinched at Mimi shrieking her name, but not the slap. "I was _being a distraction_ , and it'd been almost _two weeks_ since I had been in mortal peril. It seemed like a good idea at the time! Besides, I've had worse beatings. From both Cygnus _and_ Tom, actually."

Mimi, apparently not having a good response to that, just said, "Tom!" and pointed at Bella like he should know what she meant.

 _She means that Bellatrix is being insane,_ again _, and could I please stop her before she drives Mimi mad, too._ "So I take it you slept well?"

Bella grinned. "For _nine hours_ , like the bloody dead. Magical exhaustion and healing aches aside, I feel great."

Mimi parked her hands firmly on her hips, glaring at both of them. "Would it kill you to be on my side for once, Tom?"

"Of course not. But I do know better than to ask the impossible of either of you, and asking Bella to avoid situations which endanger her own life is exactly that."

An awkward silence settled over the three of them. Spike had already _been_ being awkwardly silent, kind of just staring at Bella like she wasn't just crazy, but _scary_ crazy for the last little bit, now.

_This would be an opportune moment for a distraction, if you please, Lily._

_Um..._ She didn't mind being a distraction, but she didn't know what to do.

 _You have yet to introduce yourself and Nyx to Spike_ , Tom suggested.

 _Oh, o_ — _oh, no!_ As soon as the idea of introducing Nyx to Spike got in her head, the hyper little kitten decided that Spike was _much_ more fun to attack than some little bit of ribbon. "No, Nyx! _Stop!_ " She did, freezing with all four paws latched firmly around the vampire's calf.

"Ouch! Bugger all..." he muttered, trying to shake her off.

"Hang on, I'll get her!" Lily scooted over to carefully un-hook the claws.

"Er. Sorry, pardon my French and all that. But what the _hell!?_ Where did this little beastie come from? And what's with the cat?"

"Ah... Sorry. This is Nyx," Lily explained, retreating a little with the very still kitten safely in hand so she didn't have to look quite so straight up to give the vampire her best _not my fault, I have no idea what you're talking about, cute little girl_ smile. "I'm Lily, Tom's my father. What's it like to be a vampire? Angel — vampire Angel, not goddess Angel — said it wasn't a lot of fun, but he wouldn't say why."

"Er..."

"I'm starving. Let's go get dinner," Bella suggested, probably also because Tom asked her to, because it seemed kind of sudden.

 _I did, yes. Though she_ should _eat, anyway._

"Somewhere with wine, because I've been wanting a nice merlot since my bath in that shitty raw red last night, and it's much easier to get people to talk about shite like being a vampire when they're drunk."

Mimi glared at all three of them. " _You_ —" (Bella) "—are impossible. _You_ —" (Tom) "—are incorrigible. And _you_ —" (Lily — she gave the older girl the same _cute little girl_ smile.) "—are not fooling me for one second, missy." Lily pouted at her. "But fine!" She threw her hands up dramatically. "Let's go to dinner! I'll tell Buffy we're leaving," she said over her shoulder, already stomping away.

The awkward silence was still there. This time, Tom broke it himself. "So, Spike. Where's your favourite place in the world?"

"What?"

"You've been around for quite some time, I understand. And there's quite a lot of world between Britain and California. I imagine you've seen a fair bit of it getting from there to here. What's your favourite city?"

"Ah...Beijing?" he said, like that was such a weird question, he wasn't really sure _what_ to say, but he warmed up to it after a second. "Yeah, probably Beijing. Beautiful place, back at the turn of the century. Got out just as the Boxers were digging in. I keep telling myself I'll get back there someday, but." He shrugged. "You?"

"Oh, anywhere but London," Tom said very seriously. Spike laughed. Tom gave him a slightly far-away grin. "New York. Summer of Nineteen Fifty. First time I made it to this side of the pond, and I spent most of the trip in various libraries, but it was an entirely different world. There was this feeling on the air, this young, upcoming city in a young, upcoming country, still riding high on the waves of the Second Great War, entrepreneurial avarice and potential so thick you could _taste_ it — positively _electric_ , made a young man feel _alive_... Though I hear it's gone downhill since." He sighed. " _C'est la vie_."

Spike sighed, too. "I know that feeling, mate, believe me..."

Bella leaned on one arm of Tom's abandoned chair, smirking at the men. "You know, Tom, Zee's going to be annoyed if you seduce her vampire."

Spike startled. "Ah, no offence, but..."

"She's going to be even more annoyed if you ruin her chance for a _ménage à trois_ — Mimi in the middle, of course," he said, turning back to the vampire, who now looked like he was a little less uncomfortable, maybe considering the...whatever that was.

"Is that a sex thing?" Lily asked. She thought _seduce_ was a sex thing. Tom glared at her, Spike looked a little shocked, and Bella giggled. She thought that was probably a _yes_.

 _Yes, that's a_ yes _,_ Tom thought at her, annoyed, though she didn't know why.

"This family's really weird," she decided.

Bella ruffled her hair. "Normal is overrated."


	37. About Those Allies

"Oh, thank God," Buffy muttered, hugging Willow tightly enough to make her squeak. She and Xander and Giles had only been gone for four days, and at least one of them had texted her every few hours, but she'd still spent the entire time with her stomach in knots worrying. The constant 'still alive' updates might actually have been worse than not getting any news at all. She hadn't been able to forget they were gone, and after Molly... Well, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about that, either, because _she_ wasn't still alive.

"Uh, hi, Buffy? We missed you, too?"

"Hey, Buff, share the love," Xander said, throwing his arms around both of them.

"Hey, Xander. Giles. Kennedy. How'd it go?"

"Ah, perhaps we'd best step out of the doorway first?"

"Right, sorry, come on in guys. Make yourselves at home. Everyone else has."

"Everyone else?" Kennedy asked, as they kicked off their shoes and dropped their bags by the stairs.

"Ah...there's a new Potential for one, and apparently the— Hot Shit-slash-Angel convinced Faith to break out of jail to come 'help' us by killing Bella and Mira, and— Well, obviously that didn't work out, Faith thought it was weird that Angel was asking her to break out of jail, so she went to see if _he_ needed help, first, and that kind of gave it away, but she's here, now, anyway, and that Tom Riddle guy Bella and Mira told us about, their, um Darth...whatever Xander called him. The sneaky, secretly evil guy from Star Wars."

Xander rolled his eyes at her. "Senator Palpatine."

"Yeah, him. He's here, too. Well, not _here_ , here—" The demons (and Spike, and Anya, but just until Xander came back and she could go home without being alone) had moved into some empty house nearby, thank God. (A _lot_ of people around here seemed to be thinking that right now seemed like a really good time to take a vacation. Picking up on the active Hellmouth vibes, Buffy figured.) Her house was already _way_ too crowded, and she _really_ didn't like that Riddle guy. He just set off her creep alarm like no other, even worse than Mira. Might've had something to do with Angel warning her that he was an _actual mind-reader_ (which she thought Bella might've mentioned at some point, but she'd forgotten because he _wasn't here_ , so she hadn't had to worry about it). "—but here, in Sunnydale. Wants to take them back to their universe for some reason."

Not that Buffy was complaining about that. She knew _Bella_ didn't have any idea how she and Mira were going to get home, and Buffy might like the Shadow Demon better than her girlfriend, but she still didn't want the murderous little monster in her universe any longer than necessary. Just... _maybe_ long enough to deal with that Caleb guy would be good. Not only was he a disgusting, self-righteous, woman-hating _ass_ , but she hadn't even managed to _bruise_ him, she didn't think. And she _so_ wanted to wring his neck for Molly...

She'd been _so_ angry, he just– just threw her aside and...killed her. Like it was _nothing_ to him. Like _she_ was nothing to him...

Bella said she'd pushed him "into the Shadows" to get rid of him for the moment, but he'd be back. _Spike_ said no matter how uninjured she'd looked when they caught up with the rest of the recon force/rescue team back here, the invincible serial killer had very nearly finished her off. She'd told Riddle (apparently) that she'd been cheating and using magic to hold herself together, and had been healing herself somehow when she'd disappeared afterward. Buffy had taken Molly's body out to bury beside Annabelle and Chloe, and hadn't been able to find Bella _or_ Mira when she'd gotten back. Mira was there when she gave up on trying to sleep and came back downstairs — four AM, or so — sitting out on the porch with Spike, but Bella hadn't turned up until lunch.

Which _did_ make Buffy feel a _little_ better about the demon girl being back on her feet the next day, apparently no worse for wear. A little stiffer and slower than usual, maybe. More _careful_ — she'd been all for practicing tai chi instead of actually sparring, which was a first — but Buffy definitely wouldn't have guessed that the kid had had, say _a broken back_ twelve hours before. ( _She can die like a human my_ ass _!_ ) _She_ was just starting to feel back to normal _now_ , and she hadn't been hurt _nearly_ as badly.

(Yes, Buffy knew it was incredibly immature of her to keep comparing herself to the little demon — Giles and Mira had _both_ pointed that out, already — but she couldn't help it. She might not be the cleverest or best with people or totally up on the magic and stuff, but she was used to being the most dangerous, physically capable person in the room, and it bothered her when she wasn't.)

Supposedly Bella still wasn't up to doing that sort of healing on herself again, yet — if she was hurt that badly _again_ within the next week or so without a witch on hand to heal her (or more realistically, a witch and half a dozen other people to suck the life out of), she probably _would_ die, or at least be seriously, life-ruining-ly disabled, even if she managed to heal enough of the major damage to survive.

And the only thing she'd really _learned_ getting herself beaten to within an inch of her life was that the only really good ways to hurt this guy were possibly fire or acid — she'd done a blood-magic thing that had taken out one of his eyes, which had an effect kind of like both — and getting him to move fast enough that he hurt _himself_. And even then he healed _fast_ , like a Turok-Han. The ubervamps had the fact that they were actually _built_ to be as strong as they were, their bones and muscles could hold up to them using their full strength and speed, but fucking _Caleb_ was invulnerable to weapons in a way they weren't.

Andrew was looking into different acids they might be able to get their hands on that would melt skin and bone but not plastic, so they could use squirt-guns on the freak, but Buffy wasn't sure about that. It seemed like a double-edged sword, throwing around acid that could hurt _them_ as easily as _him_. Yes _, same for napalm, Jesus_ Christ _, Andrew_. (Andrew, Buffy was beginning to realize, actually _did_ have some skills in the villainy department, he just needed to be pointed in the right direction.)

Anyway, that wasn't _much_ , but it was _something_ , at least. And much as Buffy might resent the kid being better suited to her stupid job that she never wanted anyway, she kind of wanted to keep her around until they were finished dealing with this whole situation. Especially the Father Dickhead part. (She would _never_ admit it aloud, but that man scared her. A crazy, murderous fanatic who could kick her ass without even _trying_? who could probably _kill her_ without trying? Yeah, totally reasonable fear.)

"Also? Senator Palpatine brought his daughter with him."

Giles took his glasses off to clean them, which was Giles not-speak for _I have no idea what to say to that_.

"Daughter?" Kennedy repeated. "The evil demon high school teacher has a daughter?"

"Yeah, it's really weird. She's like, _six_ , and has this kitten, totally adorable until she opens her mouth and starts asking if I know what sex is—" All four of them gave her various surprised, disbelieving looks. "Faith put her up to it, I think. Or spouting off about talking to gods."

Willow's eyes widened. "Is she a witch?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen her do any magic. Bella and Mira didn't know about her. I think it might be a _Dawn_ sort of situation."

No one really had anything to say to that.

"Right, so, are we having a family meeting?" Xander asked after a second, all business-like. "Get 'em over here, catch everyone up and make plans and stuff?"

"I think that sounds like a very good idea. Do we have some way to contact them?" Giles asked.

"Ah, yeah, Mira got a cell phone." _Somehow_. She hadn't borrowed the credit card, so Buffy was fairly certain she didn't want to know how the demon girl had gotten the money for a phone. "I'll text her."

"Of course. Teenage demon girls from the Nineteen Sixties are still teenage girls," Giles muttered. Poor man still wasn't used to the idea of cell phones. Or the internet. And entirely fed up with sharing a house with so many teenagers. Then he added, a little louder, "I'm going to unpack while we await her response. Willow? Kennedy?"

"Ah, you go ahead, Ken-doll, I wanna talk to Buffy a second," Willow said.

Kennedy gave her an uncertain nod.

"Who else is around?" Xander asked. "I wanna take a field trip over to An's, drop off my stuff, too. Maybe tell Mira twenty minutes?"

"I think Dawn's upstairs, and Andrew's in the garage working on the flamethrower."

"No Anya?"

"She was staying with the demons until you got home. Too many 'little girls' over here for her taste." Buffy rolled her eyes, but Xander just did his little _oh, Anya_ smile. "Are you two...?"

"Like, a thing again?" He gave her a helpless shrug. "That's the end of the world for you. Brings people back together. But, I don't know if it'll last when this is all over. I'm just taking it one day at a time, you know?" Willow sighed, which was apparently the signal for Xander to be all, "Right, well. You said Dawn or Andrew? Dawnie it is," and take off up the stairs.

"What was _that?_ "

"Um...Kennedy and I are...maybe not in such a good place? I kinda had to do like, _big_ magic, and it was all _whoo_ , and, um...kinda scary. Not like, out of control, or anything," she added quickly, as Buffy frowned. "Or not like, _out of control_ , out of control. I, um...might've been a _little_ too deep in the magic, but it let me go when the lich was dead. Er...when its body was destroyed, I mean. And, um...I think I kinda scared Kennedy. She's been kinda skittish-like, since. I don't know if... But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

Well, that was kind of something _Buffy_ wanted to talk about. What, exactly, did "not _out of control,_ out of control" actually mean? But Willow probably wouldn't want to worry her, she'd probably play it down. Kind of just like that. Better ask Giles, later. "Oookay?"

Willow waited until Xander and Dawn hurried back down the stairs and headed out to ask, "Did, um...something _happen_ here, while I was gone? Like, a magic something?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"I don't _know_ , that's the thing! See, I think Magic was trying to tell me something when I was kinda-sorta possessed by it, but I was distracted by, y'know, _lich_ , and then when I was just _me_ again, I couldn't really remember what it was, just...something _really important_ was happening here. And not like a _bad_ something, I kinda think maybe it's not really related to Hot Shit at all, just..."

"Just _something important?_ "

Willow nodded. " _Something important_ , and there might be, like, a thing I'm supposed to do? But it's a _good_ thing, whatever it is."

"Willow..." Buffy frowned, trying to think how to say this in a way that didn't sound too mean. "How do you know it _wasn't_ Hot Shit? Because I gotta say, I'm a little iffy on any magic thing making you think maybe you should _do_ some unknown thing because it's good for reasons it also won't tell you. And it _was_ trying to get at you when you were using magic, before, you know that..."

"Well, I... I guess I _don't_ , really, it's just...it didn't _feel_ evil, y'know? And I think it _did_ tell me, I just don't remember."

"Yeah, okay, but it went after Faith looking like _Angel_ and trying to convince her she was _helping_ us fight _against it_ by going after Mira and Bella. It kinda seems like it might be...branching out, maybe. Or, I dunno, going back to what it was doing at first, remember, trying to trick Dawn looking like Mom, and who was it for you? Cassie, right? Dawn's friend? And it acted like it was trying to help, telling us things..."

Willow let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, okay. That...I guess that makes sense. I'll just...try to forget about it, I guess. Not let it affect me, y'know?"

"It's probably for the best, Will. But I'm glad you're back!" Buffy said, as cheerfully as she could. And then, because Willow looked like she _really_ needed it, pulled her into another hug.

Which was interrupted by Bella and a _very_ shaky Spike stepping out of a shadow in the hallway behind them. "I'm okay!" he announced abruptly, leaning on the wall and sounding very _not_ okay. "I'm fine!"

Buffy hadn't realised, "You can take other people with you when you do that?"

"Well, yeah, obviously. Just, I don't like taking people who could break my neck if they panic in the Dark. Also, most people really don't like being pulled under. You did better than Zee," she informed the vampire. "She had one of her panicky things, and refused to get close enough to touch me for like, three days."

"Yeah, well, I don't blame her! That was...maybe the worst experience of my life, Shadow Girl! Felt like I bloody well _died! Again!_ "

" _Yeah, well_ , you're the one who wanted to come to the meeting and can't go outside for another two hours. You _asked_ me to bring you here."

"You offered! You didn't say it felt like _dying!_ "

"Zee did. You said, and I quote, _it can't be that bad, Mira_ , and then Tom laughed and said he'd buy you a drink if you didn't piss yourself, which should've been a clue right there."

"Gonna be a bloody expensive drink," Spike muttered, glowering at the giggling demon.

"Everyone else is walking over," she informed Buffy and Willow. "They should be here in about ten minutes. Lily walks slow."

"She's six. Her legs are about half as long as yours, and you're a midget," Spike pointed out irritably, though he did seem to be starting to relax a little. Enough to stop hugging the wall, anyway. "Hey, Red. Good flight?" he asked, with a sort of desperation that sounded too hard like he was trying to convince himself he really _was_ fine.

"Oh, it was pretty good. They gave us those little shortbread cookies... Do vampires eat shortbread cookies?"

"No. Thin Mints or the...what do you call them, with the coconut and the chocolate stripes?"

"Caramel Delights?" Buffy just...couldn't see Spike buying Girl Scout cookies, somehow.

"Yeah, those are pretty good. But shortbread is like...the blandest possible biscuit."

The little demon wrinkled her nose. "See, I could actually see blood and shortbread not being a bad combination. Chocolate is actually pretty good. Caramel, coconut, sure. _Mint_ , though?"

"First, they're mint covered in chocolate, second you don't have to eat them _with blood_ , and thirdly, blood and shortbread sounds disgusting. Like, if there was a way to ruin blood and make shortbread _worse_..."

"I dunno, I'd try it."

" _Okay_ , I am officially done making small talk with you people!" Buffy announced. "I'm gonna catch Giles for a minute, call me when everyone else gets here."

"Bathroom!" Willow said, fleeing toward the kitchen.

"See, I told you I'm bad at the small talk thing," Buffy heard Bella say behind her.

"I think you did that on purpose."

"I didn't!"

"Liar."

Buffy shook her head. The idea of Spike _having friends_ (or friends who weren't sketchy black-market kitten-poker demon guys, at least) was almost as weird as the thought of him buying Girl Scout cookies. (Though Bella was kind of like a sketchy black-market kitten-poker demon guy in the body of a pre-teen girl, come to think of it...) She tapped lightly on the wall beside the makeshift 'room' Giles had created for himself by stringing a sheet as a curtain across Dawn's room. (Because it simply _wasn't appropriate_ for him to share a room with a bunch of teenage girls. But a curtain made it okay.)

Their space problem really _was_ getting out of control. Maybe they should consider taking over a couple other houses? But then they had the problem of not having enough fighters to keep watch at night. Maybe make some of the girls move in with the demons? She added it to her mental agenda for the meeting.

"Oh, Buffy! What is it?" Giles asked, setting his journal back on his pillow. His cot was, as always, neatly made, his clothes folded and stored beneath it. The one little island of organization and sanity in the entire house, probably.

"Ah...got a minute?"

"Of course." He patted the foot of the 'bed'. Buffy stayed standing. She wanted to be able to see his face. "What is it?" he repeated, sounding more alarmed this time.

"Um, well... It's about Willow. She mentioned _big magic_ like _whoo_ , and out of control, but not _out of control,_ out of control, and... What happened, Giles? Is she really okay?"

Giles sighed. "It seems so. We attempted to make our way to the lich to face it directly — Emily was apparently thinking along the same lines as Bellatrix. She had already found a tracking spell we could use to follow its soul to its phylactery — and were waylaid by a horde of revenants — er, reanimated corpses — bloody difficult to put down, and there seemed to be no end to them.

"Alvin and Cameron were down — they did survive, if barely — and the rest of us were being overwhelmed, so Willow took it on herself to...challenge the lich, in essence. Take control of his army from him in a battle of wills. She seemed to have him at a stand-still, enough to give us some breathing room.

"Emily, who's not a witch but does have some experience with ritual magic, as I do myself, convinced Kennedy and Xander to capture one of the revenants, and we attempted to use sympathetic magic to set them all on fire by setting fire to the one. Willow, I think, must have realised what we were trying to do and sort of...twisted the spell, is the best way I can think to put it.

"It wasn't fire, but...pure destructive energy. I've never seen anything like it. And the amount of magic she put into it was frankly terrifying — enough to draw the lich's own vessel into the spell. It just...disintegrated. All of it. The army of corpses, the lich..." He shook his head, frowning. "She went _dark_ again — I was convinced she was about to turn on us, but then...the power left her.

"She collapsed — understandably, I imagine channeling and directing that much magic is exhausting — and of course we hadn't managed to use the tracking spell on it, but a bit of old-fashioned detective work on the part of Xander and Cameron led us to the warehouse the creature had been using as a base. We managed to find some of the tools it had used to raise its army — an athame, in particular — which we were able to use in a tracing spell to find the phylactery.

"We burned it, and Alvin performed an exorcism on the ashes, just to be safe. And scattered them in running water. No kill like overkill, I believe was the phrase he used. But in any case, the crisis appears to have passed."

"Yeah, okay, good for Cleveland. But what about Willow?"

"Willow...admitted that she was not entirely in control of herself. I know she wasn't, I looked into the eyes of the power that briefly inhabited her — there was nothing human in it. But it _did_ let her go, when the spell she was casting was complete. It seems that the hypothesis that the magic is guided by Willow's emotions and priorities may be correct. She intended only to protect us, destroy the lich and its tools, and the magic, even when she was no longer in control, _per se_ , simply followed through on that intent.

"I certainly wouldn't recommend that she do such a thing again, it was undoubtedly risky, but it doesn't seem to have had any lasting effects, if that's what's concerning you..."

Buffy sighed. "I don't know _what's_ concerning me. Did she tell you it spoke to her, kind of?"

"No," Giles said, suspicion heavy in his voice. "She most certainly did not."

"She said it told her things, but she doesn't really remember them, just that something important was happening here, and she had to do something, and it's a good thing, but she doesn't know what's happening, or what she's 'supposed' to do, and we don't have any way to know for sure that this isn't the– Hot Shit trying to trick her or whatever, so I think I convinced her not to do whatever the thing is, but...maybe keep an eye on her if you can, when I'm not around?"

Giles nodded. "Of course. And Buffy—"

"Hey! Buffy! Giles! Meeting time!" Xander's voice called from downstairs, interrupting him.

"Never mind."

"What?"

He shook his head. "Just... I'm sorry. About Molly."

"Yeah." Guilt twisted in her stomach as she thought again of the British Potential, lying broken in her grave. "Yeah, me, too. Come on, we should go. Meeting can't start without us."

Technically, the meeting _could_ start without them, and did, but with a full dozen people crammed into the dining room catching up on the events of the last several days — Mira, Bella, Riddle, and Lily (and kitten), Faith, Spike, Anya and Xander, Dawn, Andrew, Willow, and Kennedy — it wasn't like they'd really _missed_ anything. There were at least four different conversations going on at once when she and Giles got downstairs.

"Alright, let's get this party started!" Xander said, apparently still on his efficient-and-businesslike kick. He knocked on the table with a paperweight to get everyone's attention. "I hereby call this meeting of the Scoobies and various guests and allies to order! What'd we miss while we were gone?"

"Ooh! Can I tell them?" Andrew asked, looking to Buffy for permission.

"Knock yourself out."

"Okay, so..." Andrew's account of the past few days was...pretty much exactly what Buffy had expected. Overly dramatic — he spent long enough on Dawn's "stirring and inspiring speech to the Hope for the Brighter Future of America" to make her blush — and kind of annoyingly disjointed and drawn out, but she was glad that he was doing it instead of her. She'd told Giles about Molly, after they were done with the lich he'd called her on the way to the airport. But she hadn't told Willow or Xander or Kennedy, yet. She hadn't wanted to distract them, what with the life-or-death, and...she hadn't wanted to tell them over the phone. It'd just...slipped out, with Giles. Anyway, she thought Andrew broke the news more gently than she could've done. Kennedy was hit especially hard — out of the first three Potentials to make it here, she was the only one left, now. He spent probably longer than necessary telling them about the memorial wake the Potentials had held for her, but it _did_ give Kennedy some time to pull herself back together, and Xander and Willow to get over the shock of realising that they'd lost another one.

"And that brings us to today. Giles, Xander, Willow and Kennedy have just returned triumphant from their epic battle with the Litch of Lake Eerie—"

"Lich," Giles corrected him, bringing an abrupt end to his dramatic recitation. "We did manage to prevent any more deaths among the remaining members of the New Order, and the lich has indeed been disposed of. I don't believe the details of the episode are particularly important to events here and now. Certainly not so pertinent as the business of our newest additions...?"

"Well," Riddle said with a faint smirk. "I suppose introductions are in order. I'm Tom Riddle, Master of Magical Theory and Dark Arts, Professor of Defensive Magic at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." And creepy mind-reader. Angel had warned her about him. "The creepy mind-reading thing is called legilimency, Miss Summers. Yes, I do know what you're thinking, Mister Wells. And I try not to, Miss Kennedy." Tried not to _what?_ Wait, did that mean Kennedy was her _last_ name? What the hell was her _first_ name? "And I'm quite certain Miss Kennedy would prefer to tell you herself, Miss Rosenberg."

"I haven't used my first name since I started school, Willow," Kennedy said defensively, in response to the betrayed look her girlfriend was giving her.

"Tell me anyway."

Kennedy groaned. "It's Tiffany. Tiffany Rose." _Really?_ " _Please_ just call me Kennedy," she said over the sniggering. "I hate you," she told the mind-reader. "I don't even know you, and I hate you."

Faith threw a necklace into the middle of the table, a simple black leather cord with a coin-like metal pendant strung on it. The pendant had some complicated design carved into it, Buffy couldn't quite make it out from here. "Angel and company found this amulet that can keep him from just reading your mind sneaky like that. I've got five, and a copy of the spell to make more. Just need to carve that symbol in a bunch of tokens, first."

 _Oh, good..._ Faith actually being useful was weird, but Buffy could get used to it...

"You needn't bother. I'm only here long enough to fetch the girls back to our own universe. I'm afraid Mirabella's presence is required at home. It seems _someone_ neglected to tell the Zabinis that she would be taking an impromptu holiday in _hell_."

"To be fair, I didn't know we would end up in Valhalla when we left."

"You knew you were planning on wandering around different universes for _a week or two!_ If you weren't going to tell my parents, you could at least have told _me!_ "

"I could have, but then you would have refused to come."

"Tom!" Mira said, pointing dramatically at her girlfriend.

"Bella, Mimi has every right to refuse to be dragged off on holiday with no notice whatsoever. And I feel I should also point out that there are more efficient ways to communicate your disdain for the matches your uncle has proposed. In fact, pretty much _every_ method of communication is more effective than running away for a month or so. Why didn't you just _tell_ him that none of the options were acceptable?"

Bella pouted at the man. "I did. And then he said that the alternative _I_ proposed was unacceptable, and I told _him_ that he couldn't _make me_ marry any of those feckless idiots—" _Wait,_ marry _?_ Their demon guests were only here because Bella was _avoiding getting married?_ Buffy had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the idea. "—and he told _me_ that he would disinherit me if I didn't pick one of them, and I threatened to challenge him as the Head of the House, and he called my bluff, because we both know I don't want to be Lady Black, and _especially_ not before I'm done with school, so _I_ called _his_ bluff and pointed out that if he disinherited me, he could kiss all those matches goodbye, since we all know they only want me for my dowry — apparently I'm 'questionable breeding stock' at best, being _obviously insane_ outweighs all other factors — and he told me to come back when I was ready to cooperate with him — which will, of course, be _never_ — and used the wards to eject me from the Keep, so I decided to go on holiday. Meda can look after the House for a few weeks, it's fine."

"You _dragged me to hell_ because Arcturus wants you to get _married?!_ " Mira was not _nearly_ as amused by that as Buffy. " _Bella!_ "

"No, I dragged you to hell because I didn't think you'd take it well if I just disappeared on you. Also, _I didn't know we'd be going to Valhalla_ at the time."

"Stop calling that universe Valhalla! It was—"

"Bella," Riddle said, cutting off Mira's response. "Mimi. We'll discuss this later. Preferably at home."

"What?! _No_. I'm not leaving _now!_ I'm in the middle of a game!"

"A game which will continue on just fine without you. I require Mimi's presence in our own universe, demonstrably alive and well, which means we're going home!"

"You can take Mira, but I'm staying here. The other side's finally fielded a worthy opponent, I'm not leaving until I find a way to rip that misogynistic prick's heart out!" A goal Buffy wholeheartedly agreed with, though Bella sounded a lot more excited about a rematch with the bastard than she was.

"No. How would you get home?"

"I'd figure it out," Bella grumbled.

Tom ignored her. "Besides, Mimi doesn't trust you not to get yourself killed if we leave you here alone. You're coming home."

"You can't just come in here, get everyone riled up and furious, and then _leave!_ " Buffy objected. Mostly directed at Bellatrix, but Mira had annoyed Hot Shit quite a lot, too.

"See, Buffy thinks I should stay and see it through."

"Buffy is afraid that this Caleb fellow is going to kill her if you leave." Buffy grabbed the amulet that was still lying in the middle of the table and put it on, glaring at the mind-reader.

"In accordance with the Eighteen Twelve ruling on the case of Monroe versus Lowell, wherein—"

"We all know you don't care about precedent. We need to go home. _All_ of us," Tom interrupted, frowning at her, and then down at his daughter who was tugging at his sleeve.

"Does that mean I have to leave, too? Because I can't go, I still don't know why I'm supposed to be here," she said, in a very small, slightly apologetic voice. When he only continued to glower, she added, "Katie _said!_ "

Riddle groaned. " _Fine._ But as soon as you figure it out, we're doing whatever it is, and then we're going home. _All of us_." He turned his glare back on Bellatrix, who gave him a wicked grin.

"Who knew you'd be such a pushover as a parent?"

Riddle _harrumphed_.

"Katie?" Giles asked.

"Hecate," Mira explained.

"Hecate?" Willow echoed. "The _goddess_ Hecate? She _told_ you something?"

The kid nodded. "I'm supposed to do something for her friend while I'm here. I just don't know what."

Well that was...kind of disturbing. Especially since Willow had _also_ just been saying magic was telling her to do some unknown thing.

"Well, she can't just _tell_ you," Bella said, apparently seriously. "That would be _telling_."

Mira rolled her eyes. "And we can't have _that_. And there are certain gods even Tom won't cross, so it appears we'll be staying here a bit longer." She didn't seem too upset about that, giving Spike a quick smile. Buffy had to bite her lip again seeing him smile back. She still didn't like...whatever was going on, there. "What else is on the agenda?"

"Ah, maybe it's just me, but does anyone else think it's getting kind of crowded around here?" Faith said, saving Buffy from having to be the one to suggest kicking people out of her house. "Can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm with Riddle — can we just go and like, commandeer another house or two?"

"We don't exactly have enough decent fighters to keep watch, though," Buffy noted.

"Sure we do. There's the two of us, Spike, Bellatrix. Riddle's a hell of a lot more dangerous than he looks."

Buffy was sure he was. Angel had actually called her to warn her about the demon (and Faith) heading up here, and they hardly _ever_ talked, anymore. Too hard, what with the loving and the perfect happiness and the Angel-going-evil and the killing and sending to hell... Anyway, he'd said the mind-reader could control people, somehow. Use them as puppets. And he was probably the smoothest con-man Angel had ever met, which was saying kind of a lot, seeing as he'd been around for...longer than Buffy liked to think about. Which meant him claiming to need to make some sort of magic bond thingy before he could do that didn't mean much at all as far as Angel was concerned. And he was only here in the first place because he made some sort of deal with Wolfram and Hart — anyone who was on good terms with the evil demon lawyers was suspect at best, so.

Not to mention the whole _let an evil fallen Power go basically free_ deal, and the fact that the man was apparently suspiciously familiar with what it meant to be an actual, goddamned _angel_ — seriously, of all the people in the world, the Powers had chosen _Cordelia_ as their...whatever? _how? why?_ — and claimed to be negotiating on behalf of _actual Fate_ talking to "Luz" (the evil Power that was out trying to achieve "world peace" as they spoke, _hopefully_ through non-dominating-everyone's-minds methods...). Angel said that wasn't the sort of thing anyone would claim lightly, so it might actually be true. And _that_ meant this Riddle guy was apparently on speaking terms with the actual powers of the universe. Not just the Powers That Be (though that would be scary enough), but like, fundamental principles that fucked around with the lives of _gods and immortals_ for fun.

And he _looked_ like a young-ish UC Sunnydale prof, so yeah, more dangerous than he looked, for sure. Actually, hadn't Angel said he really looked like a lizard-man? So, maybe not more dangerous than he _really_ looked, but more than he looked _right now_. Whatever.

"How many people do you _need_ to babysit a bunch of teenagers?"

"I want to have at least two fighters in every group, just in case Hot Shit sends Bringers over in the middle of the night or something. We could ask for volunteers to move over to the house they've already taken over." Not that she was exactly _thrilled_ with that idea, sending impressionable young girls off to live with a bunch of demons and Spike.

"We don't have anyone who fights at my place."

"No one's trying to kill _us_ , An," Xander said.

"How many eyeless mooks do you think it could possibly have, anyway?" Bella asked. "We did kill about twenty of them at the winery. If I were Hot Shite, I wouldn't want to waste them attacking us directly."

"Still, humor me. It could have more tricks up its sleeves we haven't seen, yet, like Father Dickhead. I'd just feel better if—"

"What about Principal Wood?" Dawn interrupted.

Which...

Buffy would definitely trust Robin to stand watch against the Bringers. He'd been over here practically every day training with her because he was the only person around anywhere _near_ her weight-class. He'd admitted that he'd done some ritual when he was younger to make him stronger than your average reasonably buff human man so he actually stood a chance against the vamps. Not quite _Slayer_ strong, but she'd guess he could probably arm-wrestle Riley, even when he was all super-soldier-serum-y — strong enough she wouldn't kill him if she didn't pull her punches. They'd spent quite a lot of time sparring together (with Bella pointing out various flaws in their respective techniques, and demonstrating hand-to-hand and grappling moves for them with Kennedy), she was sure he could hold his own against at least a few of the stupid eyeless bastards.

But Robin had flat _refused_ to move over here when she'd offered. He'd tried to tell her at first that it was because he didn't want to live in a house full of teenage girls, and then that he wanted to keep up some semblance of a normal life (which he was, he wasn't here _now_ , for example, hadn't answered her text), but when she'd pressed him, he'd admitted it was because he wouldn't be able to sleep in any home a vampire had been invited into. Which was kind of ridiculous, it wasn't like Spike would hurt him — even if he did know Robin was planning on trying to avenge his mother's death after they finished dealing with Hot Shit, he wouldn't break his word — but also totally reasonable, because, well...there was the whole _triggering_ incident.

Spike had been keeping his distance for that exact reason, but now he'd made things up with Mira and was apparently going to be around again, Buffy was a little wary of letting him be unsupervised around anyone who couldn't kill him if he went off again, herself. Or _stop_ him. Apparently his whole _thing_ with Mira was about her using some kind of blood magic hypnotist voo-doo to override his control of his body, so he couldn't rip her throat out when he was triggered by Willow's spell.

"Robin won't stay anywhere a vampire can get into. If a house is abandoned, anyone can walk right in, so that's a no."

Faith groaned. "You're killing me, Bee. What about the girls? They've been learning self-defense, right? Kennedy's good—" Kennedy nodded. "—and Willow, you could make with the mojo in a pinch, right? And, I don't know, we can set up traps or something, just Home Alone the shit out of the place."

"Ooh! I can help!" Andrew volunteered.

Faith nodded. "See, Andy can help. But I am _not_ spending another night camped out in your living room with eight other girls."

Buffy sighed, trying to make it look like she was humoring Faith, here, not secretly relieved. "Will? Up to you, I guess."

"Oh! Um... I guess, yes? As long as we don't pick somewhere too far away, we can call you for help, too, right?"

"Yes. Definitely."

"Two houses down on the other side of the street's been gone for almost a week, now," Spike suggested. "Pretty sure they're out for a good long while, too. Unplugged the fridge and all. I would've set up there, but no basement."

"Alright, that's settled, then. I'll talk to the girls, figure out who's going and who's staying before dinner. We want eight volunteers to go, right?"

"I think so," Buffy said, running through the list of people who would still be staying here in her head. Seven potentials, herself, Dawn, and Giles? And Faith would have Willow, eight potentials (including Kennedy), and Andrew. And then the four demons and Spike, and Anya and Xander at Anya's, and Robin at his own apartment, and...she _thought_ that was everyone. "Seven or eight. Bella, you'll come over and keep watch with me?"

The demon nodded. "Sure. And our house has four beds. We're only using two." _Really?_ How was _that_ working? Presumably the kid had her own bed, and yeah, Bella slept even less than Buffy herself, but... Was Spike sharing with Mira _and_ Riddle? She was _pretty sure_ he was straight... Maybe Riddle didn't sleep, either. "You and Xander are welcome to stay, Anya. And Giles, if you want."

"Yes," Giles said, maybe a little too quickly. "I'll walk back with you after dinner. I expect I'll still be over here most of the time, I'd rather keep the books all in one place, but if you've a spare bed, yes, certainly, I'll take it."

"Er..." Xander hesitated, looking to Anya. "Safety in numbers?"

She nodded. "You seem worried. Why are you worried? Everyone already knows we're having sex again."

"No, no, it's just...can I get one of those amulet thingies? No offence, ah... _Tom_ , but see, it's like, super creepy when you— _that!_ Stop that!"

"He knows," Mira said, rolling her eyes, even as Faith passed him a necklace. "Be nice, Tom."

"I wasn't being _mean_. I was simply providing information."

"Yes, well, don't." She gave him a stern little frown, which was hilarious, since he looked about ten or fifteen years older than her.

" _Tch_ , _fine_. I'll just occupy myself teaching Lily focusing exercises and introductory theory, I suppose. I assume you don't want my help with your little war, Bella."

"Well, it would still be helpful if we could get anyone else here, you know, just a little more firepower for backup, but you suck at fighting without magic, and summoning Hot Shite and sweet-talking it into maybe _not_ trying to open the portal again and overrun the world, or at least the state of California, with an army of Fiends? Probably not going to work."

"And if it did, it would take all the fun out of it," Riddle said, teasing, though Bella took him completely seriously, of course.

"Yes, that too, _obviously_. Did you guys get any more info on other monster-hunters from the Clevlandians?"

"Clevelanders, and no," Giles said. "I'm afraid not. What Alvin gave us on the phone was the sum total of their contact with other groups. We really were their _last_ resort."

"What about the Initiative?" Mira asked, out of nowhere. "Liam mentioned them again the other day, I've been meaning to ask, has anyone attempted to contact them since you got them to remove the chip in Liam's head?"

"Doubt it," Spike said, looking to Buffy.

"No, I haven't." Partly because it just...hadn't occurred to her — probably for the same reason it hadn't occurred to any of them to just dump a few tons of concrete on the portal (Buffy was convinced Hot Shit was messing with them, somehow, making them overlook obvious things like that) — but mostly because, "The soldier guys, when they took your chip out, they said not to call again. If we do, they won't answer. The Initiative is no more, officially, unofficially, whatever. That was just Riley calling in a favour with a couple of guys who were in on it, back in the day."

"Yeah, so what about _Riley_ , then?" Xander asked. "I don't think he and Sammy quit hunting demons just because the Initiative is kaput. Sam gave you her email, right, Will?"

"Uh, yeah. I'll send her a message. Um, if we want to call them in. We do want to call them in, right? If they're not busy? No reason not to?"

"I suspect that the latest surge in paranormal activity has waned somewhat for the moment," Giles said. "These things tend to come in waves, and so far as I know, everyone's managed to 'hold the line' as they say. The various forces of darkness will need time to...regroup, in essence."

Dawn nodded. "It can't hurt to ask, right?"

"Well, Soldier Boy might take exception to Shadow Girl — he's a human-supremacist git," he added in response to Riddle's questioning eyebrow, which Buffy didn't really think was fair to Riley. Sure he still didn't _like_ vampires or demons, but he'd come a long way from the brainwashed military guy he'd been when they first met, thinking of them as animals to be experimented on or whatever. "And _painfully_ American. Doing the whole black-ops, C.I.A. problem solver thing down in Central America last I heard."

"Point of order," Xander interrupted. "I'm pretty sure his team just kills demons and like, evil shamans and stuff."

"I'm pretty sure you're a naive twat. Who d'you reckon gets to decide what counts as evil? Give you a hint, it's not the natives."

"Why, Spike," Giles said, eyes wide with surprise. "Are you developing a political conscience to go with that soul of yours?"

"Piss off, I just don't approve of military types deciding who should and should not be indiscriminately tortured and killed. Asking a few of his buddies to take that bloody chip out of my head doesn't make up for still working for the same people who put it there in the first place. I'd still pay good money to watch Shadow Girl kick his arse, and if he treats her like an unnatural, subhuman freak, I'm sure she will, so, no, no reason not to invite him to the party."

Bella shrugged. "I prefer the term _preternatural_ freak, thanks ever so. And better than being treated like a normal human kid. If he shows up to render aid, I won't endanger the alliance without actual cause," she assured Buffy.

Buffy was only moderately reassured. Who knew what the crazy little demon considered _actual cause?_ "Right. Go ahead and send the email, Will. But we shouldn't count on getting outside help — we don't know if they'll be able to send anyone, or how many people, or anything — so, what's our next move?" she asked, looking around the room.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm thinking trying to figure out how to rip Father Dickhead's heart out sounds like a pretty good way to spend the rest of the night," Bella suggested.

Well, Buffy wasn't going to disagree with _that..._


	38. An Evil Professor is Still a Professor

"You're doing the sighing thing again," Kennedy said, coming to join Willow in the living room of the (now not so) empty house kitty-corner from Buffy's. "You're not still feeling weird about just moving in, are you?"

"No, not really."

It _did_ still feel weird being here. The people who lived here had left in a hurry. Not like, food still on the table _in a hurry_ , but they hadn't taken the time to pack up all their things. It was still fully furnished, and there were obvious spots on the walls and shelves where some photos and things had been taken, but there were still tchotchkes and stuff all over, too. The bedroom they'd taken was tiny, but having a room to themselves again was a luxury in and of itself, they hadn't had any privacy for almost a week before they'd gone to Ohio. Willow thought it had belonged to a little boy with its race-car wallpaper and superhero sheets on the bed. His clothes were gone, but his toys were still scattered around the floor. The rest of the house looked like it belonged to his grandmother — floral upholstery and heavy curtains and knitted doilies on the end-tables. There was even a little bowl of hard candies they'd left behind. It felt like _intruding_ , even if the people who belonged here wouldn't be coming back any time soon.

But that wasn't why she was sighing.

"Good, 'cause Andrew's inventorying the Home Alone-ing supplies and the girls are upstairs bickering over sleeping arrangements—" They'd ended up with six potentials, not counting Kennedy, when the negotiating all was said and done. "—Faith's trying to be the voice of reason, it's hilarious. But if we try to back out now, we might have a riot on our hands. So, what's up?"

"It's just... I can't stop thinking about Lily Riddle."

Kennedy sat on the arm of the sofa and let herself flop backward, so her head landed in Willow's lap, knees still bent over the arm. "What about her?"

"I don't know, just...she said Hecate told her she has to do something. And...no one acted like it was weird."

"Oh, it was definitely weird. Kid's super creepy if you ask me. Though, that might just be like, creepiness by association."

"Are you still mad I made you tell me your name?" Willow asked, not _really_ worried, but...kind of. This was the closest they'd been, physically, since Kennedy had seen her go all dark-eyed and dangerous in Cleveland, two days ago. She didn't want her to be angry with her on top of...magic-shy. She hadn't really been thinking, just, it _hurt_ , realising that she didn't even _know her girlfriend's real name_.

"Not at you. Yes, at the creepy mind-reading demon."

"I kinda liked him," Willow admitted. "He reminds me of my philosophy professor a little bit." Professor Whitmore was much older, probably almost sixty, but he had the same sort of commanding personality and sardonic attitude. And he was like, the archetypal university professor, with the engaging lectures and the making her question fundamental assumptions about _why_ she thought the way she did. "And Lily's adorable."

Kennedy smirked up at her. "I saw you talking to her earlier. You want kids someday."

"Oh, well, I don't know, I've never really thought about it, I guess, what with the world about to end every couple of years, and, you know..."

"Being a lesbian? Yeah, that's what sperm donors and turkey basters are for."

That startled a laugh out of Willow, though she couldn't really say why. Maybe just the totally matter-of-fact way she said it. "And here I thought turkey basters were for basting turkeys."

"A common misconception."

That one only got a weak smile, because now Willow was thinking, "It's more, you know, my parents were never really around. I kinda think I might mess it up, if I had a kid. Mess them up, I mean. The whole parenting thing, I wouldn't even know where to start, you know? I just... I think I'm actually jealous."

"Of Riddle?"

"No, of Lily. It's like, she already knows Magic, and she's going to be raised with it, Professor Riddle said he was going to teach her, remember? And their world has a lot _more_ magic than ours, at least from what Bella's said. I just...wish I could've grown up like that, you know? I didn't really know about magic, didn't _really_ start using it, I mean, until a couple of years ago, and—"

And to be perfectly honest, she _still_ didn't really feel like she _understood_ it all that well. All that time she'd spent in England, meditating and trying to find herself and 'connecting to the magic of the natural world', she'd mostly been trying to _separate_ Willow Rosenberg from Magic. She couldn't imagine how much different her life might've been if she'd known about Magic since she was a kid, or been raised learning it. But she kind of felt like she was still...missing something.

Like, in the beginning, when she first started doing magic, she'd had to try so hard to even levitate a pencil, she'd _wanted_ to do magic, to _be a witch_ , _so badly_ , and then she'd kind of...broken through somehow, re-ensouling Angel, but she hadn't really...understood what she was doing. And then with Amy and Rack and the dark magic and the...everything with Tara — after all that, she'd been told by _everyone_ that she needed to reject magic, cut herself off, cold turkey, push it away and just be Willow. But looking at Lily...

She kind of had to wonder if there was another way. Some way to _embrace_ magic, without losing herself.

It was a thing she'd kind of been thinking about for a while, now. Since Bella had shared that little bit of power with her that first day, really, and they talked about what it meant to be a witch. Obviously the little demon wasn't entirely _sane_ , but she wasn't totally out of control possessed like Willow got when she fell too deep in the magics. And Lily seemed like a normal little girl. Just...a normal little girl whose imaginary friends were actually gods.

They'd talked a little after the meeting, before dinner, when everyone was deciding who was moving and who was staying at Buffy's. She'd told her about her cat and Angel's friend Lorne, which wasn't _exactly_ normal because the cat was undead and Lorne was a demon, but the _way_ she talked about them seemed like normal six-year-old enthusiasm. (Not that Willow knew a lot of kids, but she had a couple of younger cousins, Lily would fit right in with them, she thought.)

"Do you think he'd teach me? Professor Riddle? If I asked?"

Kennedy frowned up at her. "I don't know, I've hardly spoken to him. But do you really think that's a good idea? I was talking to Faith while you were playing with the kid, and I gotta say, he sounds kind of like bad news. Like, might be the actual devil, _bad news_. Worse than Bella in the sick and twisted department, and a smooth-talking mind-reading manipulator on top of that. She said she tried to kill him when they first met — long story — and he like, hijacked her body — sounded kind of like what Mira did to Spike, but without the hypnotizing and the sex and emotional whatever — and made her live through this horrifying memory-hallucination of the last person he killed literally tearing their heart out with their own hands. He asked her if she wanted to know what it felt like to _die_ , and can mess with people's memories and like, Jedi mind-trick them into doing things he wants them to do— I'd be a lot more comfortable with you staying as far away from him as possible."

"Yeah, I know, I get that..."

"But...? I hear a _but_ coming."

"But he's an _actual professor of magical theory_. And I kind of think I might need to know more about that sort of thing, because, well... I didn't tell you because I didn't want to worry you, but when I was...kinda possessed, I think Magic was trying to tell me something."

Kennedy's eyes narrowed. She twisted around to sit up and face Willow, frowning. "Magic _talks_ to you?" she asked, sounding...a little creeped out, maybe. Maybe more than a little.

"Not like, _talks_ , talks, and not, you know, _normally_ , but...yeah. Kind of? And I can't remember what it was telling me, it's really bugging me. And I told Buffy, and she thinks it's the— Hot Shit, I mean, but I don't know... It didn't _seem_ evil..."

"Yeah, I'm guessing it didn't seem all that evil when it was convincing Faith to break out of prison, either."

Willow sighed. That was _also_ a reason she hadn't told Kennedy. She just— She didn't understand magic any more than Buffy did. She wouldn't understand. It was _different_ , when it was _that_ close to her. When it was _in_ her, working _through_ her. She would _know_ if it was evil or not. She knew she would.

"Hey, I'm not trying to, I don't know, be a downer, or whatever, but..."

"But?"

"But even if it _wasn't_ Hot Shit, do you really think it's a good idea to trust some...voice in your head?"

"It's not just _some voice in my head_ , Kennedy. I'm not _crazy_."

"Yeah, okay, but... Okay, the thing is, when you were...possessed, you were— That thing, the magic that was possessing you, or whatever, the thing that was talking to you, was..."

Willow glared at her girlfriend. "Just say it. Whatever you're trying to say." She had a pretty good idea it wasn't going to be anything _good_ , but Kennedy could at least _say_ it.

"Fine. Whatever it felt like, or didn't feel like, it seemed kind of evil to me. And not _just_ me, Xander and Giles were worried about you going _dark_ , and—"

"Oh, so you'd rather I just– just let us get our heads ripped off, or something?!"

"No! I'm not saying that! I'm just— It _disintegrated_ an entire _army_ , Willow! _Dozens_ of zombies! Giles and Emily were talking about _destructive energy_ , and— You were gone. For a minute, there, you were just... _gone_ , okay? It was scary. _You_ were scary! Like when you sucked the life out of me and Mira to open that portal. I know you didn't _mean to_ , but that...doesn't really make it _better_ , you know? That kind of magic...it's dangerous. I don't even know anything _about_ magic, and I know that."

Willow tried not to scoff. She _really_ did. She just...didn't quite manage it. "Yeah, you _don't_ know— When... When I went _dark_ , it wasn't the _magic_ that made me— It might've _helped_ , but _I_ went dark. I gave in to– to my pain and grief and I threw myself into the magics. _I_ did that. _Magic_ doesn't want to destroy the world, _I_ wanted to, okay? That was _me_. And _I_ wanted to help you, destroy the zombies and the lich— Magic doesn't... It's not good or evil, it just _is_ , okay? It's _people_ who– who _use_ magic, and _how_ they use it that's good or evil!"

"But _you weren't there,_ Willow! You weren't! I looked in your eyes and I didn't see _you_ , just _blackness_ and– and maybe they're right. Giles, and Buffy, and everyone."

"Right about _what?_ "

"That... That maybe you shouldn't be doing that kind of magic. You told me that when you were in England, the witches — sorry, _Wiccans_ — were teaching you to—"

"They were teaching me how _not_ to do magic. How to– How to _see_ it, everywhere, in _everything_ , and _not use it_. Not touch it or—"

"Well, maybe they were right. Maybe you _shouldn't_. Maybe you should go back to not doing _any_ magic, if it's going to keep...taking you over, like that."

"I– I _can't_ , Kennedy. I just— I _can't_." Willow's voice quavered, tears threatening to fall as she rose to her feet, hugging herself tightly and backing away without ever really deciding to do so. She couldn't even begin to explain how _wrong_ that was. How _horrible_ the idea of _not doing magic_ was. And she _knew_ she sounded like an addict, she knew she _was_ an addict, that she had a problem, and this was that talking, but _magic is part of who I_ am _, Kennedy._ "I tried, okay? I did, I really, _really_ did! But I can't– can't pretend I don't _know_ or I don't _feel_ it. And maybe you're right, that I wasn't there, that I wasn't _in control_ , but I can't _not do magic_ , okay?"

"Willow..." Kennedy said, all reproachful-like, following her, a hand reaching out to her shoulder.

Willow could feel power shifting around herself, threatening to...do _something_. She jerked away before Kennedy could touch her, before...whatever was going to happen, happened. "Don't. I can't— I just need some time alone," she finally managed to say. "I need to– to meditate." Meditating would help, right? "I said, _don't touch me!_ " she snapped, as Kennedy moved closer again.

She froze, hurt and fear flitting across her face.

She didn't try to stop Willow as she headed for the door, stumbling out into the night, even though they weren't supposed to go anywhere alone. She didn't even say anything.

 _Good_.

She just—

She should go sit in the backyard or something, try to calm down, get ahold of herself, she just...couldn't bring herself to do it. Couldn't stand the idea of _pushing magic away_ , _again_. Just the thought made her feel sick and _wrong_.

She was crying, she realised, her hands shaking so badly she could barely get her phone out of her pocket when it rang. Buffy. She sent the call to voicemail. She couldn't talk to her right now. Or Xander or Giles or _anyone_. They wouldn't understand.

Her cell rang again. Still Buffy.

_Why can't you just leave me alone?_

She sent her to voicemail again, turned the phone off.

She didn't know where she was going or how long she wandered around aimlessly, lost in her own thoughts (and angst), but she wasn't surprised when her feet eventually brought her to the house the demons had taken over. She wouldn't have recognised it, no one had told her where they were staying, but the little girl was sitting on the front steps with a candle, watching her cat hunt a moth it had attracted.

She hesitated. She was...probably here for a reason, but the power surrounding her didn't feel any less...upset. Agitated. Like it might lash out at anyone who tried to get too close to her.

Lily blew out the candle as soon as she noticed Willow, skipping down the walk toward her. Before she could find the words to tell her to stop, she'd taken hold of Willow's hand. The magic, rather than hurting her or forcing her back or something, shifted to surround her, too.

"Willow! Hi!"

"Lily? What are you doing out here?" Willow sounded slightly dazed, even to herself.

The kid shrugged. "I had a feeling you were lost — only I didn't know it was you, just _someone_ — so I lit a candle to help you find us," she said, as though this was the most natural thing in the world. "You should come in," she said, tugging Willow toward the house.

She hesitated, pulling her hand away from the child, though the magic didn't stop playing around her, too. "I...don't know if that's a good idea, Lily."

"Why not?"

"Because I— The magic might hurt someone. On accident."

"That's silly. Magic won't hurt me, or Tom, or Bella, and Mister Giles and Anya and Xander aren't here right now, and Mimi and Spike are doing sex and want to be alone, so they're downstairs, and it won't hurt _them_ , either."

Willow couldn't help but smile at that — _Mira_ might not care that the little girl was telling people that she was busy _doing sex_ , but she was pretty sure Spike wouldn't like it.

"Come _on_ ," she demanded, grabbing Willow's hand again.

"Lily..."

"Oh, _do_ come in, Miss Rosenberg," the girl's father said, leaning against the doorframe. "Your concern for the fate of innocent bystanders does you credit, but you seem not to understand that the magic surrounding you is agitated simply because it's reflecting your own anxiety and fear. And no one _here_ is going to disparage your relationship with magic."

How did he... Did he just read her mind to find out why she was here? She hadn't thought to grab one of the anti-mind-reading amulets, earlier. Or rather, she'd decided that there were other people who needed them more, like Buffy and Xander and Giles and Kennedy. It didn't bother Willow nearly as much, the idea of someone being able to hear her thoughts and feel her feelings.

_I believe their concern is more that I'll manipulate their thoughts and feelings to some nefarious end._

She startled as the foreign thought just appeared in her mind, tinged with amusement. _Manipulate their thoughts and feelings?_ What did that even _mean_?

 _Oh, there are any number of ways to affect others' thought-patterns. The one they're most concerned about, though, is like_ this—

A wave of calm and security washed over her, an almost instantaneous feeling, just _knowing_ that she was _safe_ , no one was going to try to tell her _not_ to do magic, they were on her side (and Magic's). The upset energy still swirling around her relaxed, in such a way that she actually realised how she was kind of...holding onto it, that it was really _her_ relaxing, letting it go (which was kind of unnerving to realise)...

— _but with rather more malicious intent._

Oh. Yeah, Willow could see how that was actually maybe kind of terrifying, if she thought about it, but she couldn't actually seem to feel any sort of fear or distrust at the moment. It was really _weird_.

The little girl apparently realised that something had happened, with the magics settling down. She looked up at Willow with a bright grin. "So, does this mean you're staying with us, now?"

"Oh, um. No, sweetie, I'm gonna have to go back and help protect the other house..." Not that she really _wanted_ to, at the moment.

"Oh," the girl said, obviously disappointed, but equally obviously resigned.

"But, I guess there's no reason I can't come in and like, hang out? just for a little while," she added, entirely unable to just _leave_. Not when Lily seemed so genuinely to want her to stay. Poor thing was probably lonely, surrounded by grown-ups with their own stuff going on all the time. Willow had been, when she was that age.

Little Lily perked up immediately, pulling her toward the house and chattering about all the things she'd done since the last time she'd seen Willow (dinner and magic lessons, which were apparently boring — Willow wasn't surprised, learning to meditate _was_ boring) and her theory that Bellatrix was actually some kind of elf, even though no one would admit it.

Professor Riddle smirked at her as he moved out of the way to let them in. _Oddly, no one seems nearly so concerned about_ Lily _manipulating them..._

"I'm still not actually fae, Lily," Bella said, exasperated and slightly muffled. Because she was sitting on the floor, Willow realised, coming into the living room. She was stretching, her legs in such a wide 'V' she was nearly in a middle split, lying nearly flat in the space between them, speaking into the carpet. She looked up, though, when the kitten jumped on her back and made as though to curl up between her shoulder blades and the back of her neck, forcing it to scramble to the top of her left shoulder instead. "Hey, Willow. Is something going on, or are you here to practice focusing exercises with Lily?"

"Oh, no— Well—"

" _Nooo,_ Bella, focusing exercises are _boring_..."

 _You are welcome to join us, if you like_.

"Yeah, they are. And the sooner you get good at them, the sooner we can do more interesting things like scrying. _Ergo_ , practice."

" _Ugh_ , fine!" She plopped down on the floor as well, the kitten jumping off Bella to curl up between her crossed legs, instead, and closed her eyes.

"I'm beginning to understand why Dru hated me so much when I was a kid," Bella muttered, rolling to her feet.

"Lily is _much_ better behaved than you were at her age."

"I know. And trying to get _her_ to sit still and practice her exercises is bloody annoying. I have no idea how Orion ever managed to teach _me_ anything. Anyway, you didn't answer my question," she said, looking to Willow. "What's going on?" she prompted her, when Willow didn't immediately respond.

"Oh, it's nothing! I mean, not anything _bad_ , or, just... I got in a fight with Kennedy," she admitted, biting her lip. "About magic. And, um. Whether I should do it. And that shouldn't even be a question, I _can't_ not do magic! But... I...kind of scared her, going and getting all possessed when I was trying to kill the revenants, you know? And, well, I was just kind of...going for a walk, to clear my head? But, well, I was also kind of wondering..."

The little demon rolled her eyes. "Just spit it out, Rosenberg."

"I was wondering if maybe you — er, either of you — might be able to teach me how to... _not_ get possessed, doing big magic like that." They exchanged a look Willow couldn't read. "I mean," she added quickly, "you clearly _do_ magic all the time, and Bella, you said Eris is always with you, but you're also...still you. I have to be doing _something_ wrong..." She trailed off, just _waiting_ for one of them to say something— _anything_.

"Mind magic is so cheating," the girl said, after a moment.

The professor smirked at her. "To be fair, I did expect Miss Summers to work up the courage to ask first. But yes, Miss Rosenberg, you are doing something wrong. You're shying away from the reality of the influence you hold over Magic, and consequently your power. You're welcome to join us for lessons, of course, but I can tell you right now, your problem is a lack of confidence and self-control. Surely the druids who were teaching you explained that what you put out into the Universe comes back three-fold?"

"Well...yes." The Rule of Three was kind of a biggie in Wicca.

"Does it not follow, then, that when you project hatred and fury and fear, that magic will amplify those emotions, reflect and act upon them?"

...Not really? "I thought it was more, you know, if you do bad things to people, bad things will happen to you; if you do good, good will come back to you."

"And what else is your malice and pain being magnified and taking you over to express itself, if not _bad things coming back to you_?"

Well, when he put it _that_ way...

"I... I don't know, I guess."

The professor smirked. "Think about it. About what the Rule of Three actually _means_ , and how you interact with Magic. And we'll reconvene here tomorrow after lunch to discuss," he added, sounding _uncannily_ like Professor Whitmore.

(She wondered if he was doing that on purpose...)


	39. What the Guardians are Actually Guarding

Dawn's eyes snapped open, suddenly completely conscious, staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom, the memory of her dream fading quickly, but the important thing, the really important thing, still there, front and center.

Unlike most of her dreams, lately, this one wasn't about looking at the Universe from the outside, or the fundamental _wrongness_ of it.

It was just a voice. A woman, an _ancient_ woman, telling Dawn to come to her, to speak to her. That this is _important_.

She shouldn't go alone, she knew that. But she didn't want to bring Buffy, and she couldn't really say _why_. The woman, in her dream, said it was only for her to know, she thought. Maybe. (It was kind of fuzzy, now.) That they needed to speak face-to-face, and privately.

It was almost morning, she saw, poking the button on the top of her alarm clock, making the five-fourteen it was showing glow blue. She knew she wouldn't be getting back to sleep, not with the sense of urgency from her dream pushing her to go, to walk over to the cemetery, to find the woman who was waiting for her, who needed to speak to her. It was pointless to try.

She dressed as quietly as she could and crept downstairs, trying not to wake the Potentials sleeping in Buffy and Willow's rooms (seriously, it was _better_ now there were only half a dozen of them here, but still too many people). Buffy herself was asleep on the sofa in the living room, which meant...

Yeah, not a surprise Mira and Spike were in the kitchen, though they'd probably wake Buffy soon so they could get back to the other house before sunrise.

Dawn wasn't really sure what it was about, but Willow and Kennedy had had a fight, which meant that Willow had been sleeping at the demons' house to help Riddle guard Lily and Anya and Xander and Giles (not that anyone really thought Hot Shit was likely to target their house); Bella was hanging out with Kennedy and Faith (Dawn was just waiting for something terrible to come of that); and Spike was here with Buffy. And usually Mira.

"Aren't we up early," she observed, raising an eyebrow at Dawn over her coffee cup.

"Uh, yeah. I thought I might...go for a walk. Want to come with me?" she asked quickly, before Spike could glower and remind her that she wasn't to go anywhere alone, because Hot Shit might show up looking like him or Buffy or whoever, or she could be ambushed by some eyeless goons, or whatever.

"Bit close to sunrise for me," he said instead.

"We can walk you back to the other house, first," Mira suggested. "Did you want to wake Buffy?"

"I'll do it, let her know I'm with you," Dawn volunteered.

As expected, Buffy's semi-conscious response to Dawn telling her she was heading out was a bleary, "Huh? Wha...? Fine, whatever."

In a few minutes she would probably have recovered enough to say, no, because Mira was hardly better at defending herself than Dawn — Dawn was probably actually better with a sword — but they were more concerned about trickery, anyway, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't supposed to bring _anyone_ , and Mira was a lot less likely to get all...question-y and defensive about weird ladies sending dreams to her baby sister. And she didn't _feel_ dangerous, in the dream. (Yes, Dawn knew that was stupid, trusting that the person who sent the dream wasn't dangerous, because they weren't _in the dream that they sent_ , but still...)

And besides, Dawn had a taser, now. Andrew had made it for her, because he was actually surprisingly useful when he wasn't being a huge dork. They'd be _fine_.

The walk over to the house the demons had commandeered was quiet, Spike and Mira strolling along arm in arm, as though it was still the early Nineteen-somethings, and people got all dressed up just to walk around and be seen. Not that they were especially dressed up. Mira _had_ managed to acquire clothing for herself and Bella, probably in the same way she'd managed to acquire her phone: chatting up some rando at the bus station and asking him to pretty please give her enough money to get out of Sunnydale, and she might just be grateful enough to _not_ tell the cops over there that he was trying to solicit sex from a minor. But they were just normal shorts and tank tops, not anything fancy. Dawn spent most of the walk trying to figure out exactly why she was reminded of the early Nineteen-somethings, aside from Spike with his bleached hair and tight tee-shirts and leather coat kind of acting like a gentleman, opening doors and stuff, it was weird.

The walk to the cemetery from the demons' house was even quieter, at least until Mira asked, "So, where are we going, exactly?"

"Just for a walk," Dawn said, not entirely comfortable explaining that she'd had this _dream_.

Mira gave her a _very_ unamused look. "That's what Bella said right before she dragged me to Hell, so you can see why I might be a bit suspicious. Especially given your very obvious caginess."

Dawn didn't answer. Mira let the expectant silence hang between them until she caved. "I had a dream that there's this lady I need to talk to about...something. I don't know what. But it's important."

"And you asked me to come because...?"

"Well, who _else_ would I ask? _Buffy?_ I was supposed to go alone, I think, so if it's not a trap — and I don't think it is, I swear, I would've brought someone else if I thought it was — she may not want to talk to me if I'm with anyone."

And while Mira was definitely _someone_ , she also probably wouldn't object to giving Dawn and the mysterious Dream Lady a little privacy if the Dream Lady wouldn't tell her what the hell was going on in her company. Buffy definitely would, getting all protective over her baby sister like she sometimes did.

Mira made a little understanding sort of hum. "I see."

She probably actually _did_. It could be kind of uncomfortable talking to the demon girl, the things she just seemed to know from Dawn's posture or tone or _however_ , the way she would answer unspoken questions and just kind of...figure out what she was thinking. Not like Riddle, she could kind of actually...feel?...him watching her, or whispering at her all telepathically. Mira just had a knack for _understanding_ people, which was weird and kind of...

Sometimes, there were things she just didn't want to admit to herself, okay? And Mira, if she thought Dawn _should_ admit those things, would just point them right out, like when they were first talking, when Mira was asking her about the Potentials, how she'd pointed out that Dawn still felt guilty about Buffy dying, and almost worse about her getting dragged out of heaven to take care of her. All of them, really, but...

It was kind of _major_ , telling someone that their sister was only alive, had only _not_ gone and committed suicide by demon or vampire or monster or whatever, because of them. Kind of made Dawn feel like...like she had to somehow live up to the sacrifice Buffy made by _staying here_ , not 'finding her way back to heaven' or however Mira had put it.

Like she was kind of betraying everything Buffy had done for her by going off like this into what might be (even if she really didn't think it was) a trap and potentially risking her life, and—

Whatever. She was doing it anyway, no matter how guilty she might feel about it.

The point was, it could be uncomfortable talking to Mira, if she decided to make Dawn (or whoever she was talking to) face things about themselves they didn't want to face, but it could also be really, really easy. (Sometimes both, even though that seemed like it shouldn't be possible.) Because Dawn didn't want to explain any of that, but she was pretty sure Mira knew anyway, all the reasons she didn't want Buffy to know what they were doing.

And Mira wouldn't tell her, unless it was _really_ important. Because telling her would only make Buffy more worried and anxious and 'brittle' — and she'd _just_ started to breathe again (metaphorically), actually managing to sleep for a few hours here and there without having to be hypnotized into it — even if it turned out that this had nothing to do with Hot Shite or the Potentials or Buffy at all. That might actually be worse, if it turned out this was a completely unrelated thing that she (Dawn, _not_ Buffy) needed to worry about.

And she...kind of felt like it might be? She couldn't say _how_ , just...

She led them toward the cemetery, which looked even creepier than usual in the pre-dawn light, a weird sort of _fog_ making everything inside the gates a little blurry. Weird because, when did they really have _fog_ in _Sunnydale_? Approximately _never_. But also weird because, was it just Dawn, or was that pyramid _new_?

She'd spent kind of a lot of time around this place, okay, definitely more than normal, even if she wasn't out here every night trying to kill vampires and stuff, and she was _pretty sure_ she'd never seen the small, weathered-looking monument before. It was barely taller than any of the other mausolea — meaning, it wasn't _small_ , small, or like, _insignificant_ , but there were a couple of obelisks that were taller, not too far away — and it was made of the same stone that the really _old_ looking headstones were made of, some kind of...marble? Maybe? (They weren't always the oldest, they just _looked_ oldest, the carvings wearing down much faster than some of the others.)

It _looked_ like it had been there forever, ivy and vines and stuff growing on it, but she was almost positive it hadn't been there last week. She would have noticed, because it was weird that there was a goddamn pyramid in the middle of the cemetery of her little California town. It was _definitely_ an Egyptian pyramid, not like, Aztec, or whatever. There was a winged sun painted over the doorway, which suggested it wasn't like, _totally evil_ , or whatever. She knew that was a protective symbol, at least. It should have a similar effect on vampires as the cross, sort of warding them off. Granted, maybe it wouldn't do much for _other_ demons, but hey, that was _something_ , right? A promising sort of something? Maybe?

Whatever. The first white people had only gotten here what? two-hundred and fifty years ago, or so? And Native Americans didn't tend to be nearly as weird and pseudo-nostalgic about Ancient Egypt, as far as Dawn knew. Also, hadn't known about it, before the conquistadors showed up. And probably not for a while after that, either. (Somehow, she didn't see the early settlers spending much time talking to the Indians about Egypt while they were trying to convert them to Christianity.) Maybe she would've just written it off as the product of some eccentric old rich dude's delusions of grandeur or an old warlock or Mason or some other weird occultist's obsession with the Wisdom of the Ancients or whatever, but she still would've _noticed_.

"Was that pyramid always there?" Mira asked, cocking her head with a sort of quizzical pout.

It was almost as weird that Mira recognised that — Dawn hadn't realised she'd even _been_ out here — but... "No. So, I'm guessing that's what I'm here to see?" It wasn't really a question, she was already moving toward the door, set deeply into the side of the thing. With the way the foot of it stuck out, and the fact that it wasn't much taller than any of the other little houses of the dead, she figured there couldn't really be much room inside, maybe just enough for one or two coffins? or even just urns for ashes. Unless it was like Spike's crypt, hollowed out into a little cave underneath.

If Mysterious Dream Lady was waiting inside, it almost had to be, right? Why bother with a pyramid at all if there was barely room to stand inside?

The door was open, which was kind of weird. Maybe not _really_ , compared to the fact that it existed at all, but most mausolea were actually _sealed_ , or at the very least _locked_. You couldn't just _walk into them_. She pushed it inward, half expecting that stale tomb smell to waft out (she couldn't really describe it, but all crypts kind of smelled the same, like all old people kind of smelled the same), but of course it didn't. Obviously, if the door was open, there had to be people going in and out, it wasn't all shut up and like, _mouldering_.

"Hello?" she called quietly, jumping just a little as Mira came up to stand beside her, peering into the unlit room beyond. (Damn it, she should've brought a flashlight!)

Mira was apparently thinking along the same lines. "I don't suppose you have a torch?"

Dawn shook her head, taking a single cautious step inside. It was getting lighter out, maybe if she gave her eyes time to adjust...

Oh, or _not_.

She was almost blinded, actually, stepping over the threshold into a...tomb? that was actually _much_ larger on the inside, lit with torches and lamps. There actually _was_ a short stair, leading down into the brightly lit (or comparatively bright, it still wasn't quite morning outside) space, but she was pretty sure it wasn't — when she looked back, she could still see Mira standing in the doorway, but she hadn't been able to see the flickering firelight from outside. If she had to guess, she'd say the pyramid was more of a portal to somewhere else than just the door to a mysterious, Egyptian-themed room carved out under the Sunnydale Cemetery.

Or, series of rooms — there were a bunch of massive columns that made it seem like they were in a much larger structure of some kind, and at least one curtain hiding a doorway — and a person, behind it.

Mysterious Dream Lady, her familiar voice startling Dawn, as she began speaking before entering the room.

"Oh, sweet child..." she said, parting the curtain and revealing herself to be an old white woman (which stood out mostly because Dawn would've expected an Egyptian?), silver-haired and a little frail, but not _doddering_ , or anything. Just like, _clearly old_. _Timelessly_ old — she had known, in her dream, that the woman was _ancient_ , but she still stood tall and proud, with a sort of grace about her that Dawn tended to associate with really old witches. They used to have a few regulars at the Magic Box who looked at her like that, like they could hear the music of the spheres and feel the turning of the Earth, and knew all the secrets of the universe, after a lifetime of practicing the Craft. _Stately_ , in her green and golden robes, and _wise_ , like a high priestess of some long lost goddess or other...

"Dawn?" Mira interrupted, following her down the stairs. "Oh! Please forgive the intrusion, my Lady," she added, realising that they weren't alone. She didn't offer to leave, though, just came forward a bit more to stand with Dawn, mimicking the woman's posture and confidence, ignoring the faint look of disapproval she cast at them. She bowed, which only looked a _little_ silly, under the circumstances. Much less silly than Dawn kind of thought it should.

"I had hoped to speak to you in private, child," the...priestess? said, rather than addressing Mira's greeting.

"In times such as these, it simply isn't safe to let children meet with mysterious dream-senders alone. I'm sure you understand, my Lady." Mira somehow managed to make that _not_ sound all dry and sarcastic. Dawn could still tell she was a little offended to be ignored like that, though.

"In times such as these, indeed..." Mysterious Dream Lady trailed off.

"Er, sorry, but... Who are you?" Dawn had to ask, because she couldn't just keep thinking of her as Mysterious Dream Lady.

"My name is immaterial, child."

Mira frowned at the old woman. "How convenient, then, that that wasn't what she asked, Grandmother."

Dawn turned to her, a little surprised. That was awfully...confrontational for her, even if the old lady had snubbed her first. And she didn't think she'd ever heard Mira sound _suspicious_ of anyone before. "Mira!"

The old woman, though, didn't seem offended. If anything, she was amused. "No, no, child. It is the role of the worldly ones to protect the innocent, as a mother protects her children."

Dawn snorted. _Maternal_ was not a word she would associate with Mirabella Zabini. Plus, they were the same age!

"And the role of the crone, O Wise One?"

"To guide," the woman said simply, no more offended by being called a crone than she was to be called _grandmother_. "And to guard. To watch the watchers, one might say."

"Is—" The word came out so squeakily Dawn had to stop and clear her throat. "Is that why you...sent me that dream? To guide me?"

"Indeed, child..."

"Well, to guide me to _what?_ "

The Wise One hesitated.

"I think the better question might be, to guard what against what? Or whom?"

"To guard the world, O Jaded One. To hold in keeping that which we have gained, to maintain this home we've made for ourselves, keep the fire burning through the night, as women do and have done the world over, since time immemorial."

"Against...?" Dawn repeated, starting to get seriously unnerved, now.

"Against the Dark," Mira scoffed. "What else?"

"Curiosity," the woman suggested. "Overconfidence and the ignorance of children, who know not what they do, but whose choices may have consequences the likes of which they have never conceived."

"Sooo...like, in plain English?"

The old woman chuckled. "Keys are created to open locks, but why are the locks themselves forged? They are never put in place for no reason at all. And a child, on finding she holds a key, might so easily open a door best left sealed..."

That...wasn't plain English, but Dawn had an idea what they were talking about, now, anyway. "Is this— This is about me being the Key? But..." _But we already_ did _that apocalypse!_ she managed to stop herself from saying, realizing even as she thought it how silly it sounded. Really, though! "We— I'm not going to— People don't _know_ I'm the Key, anymore... Do they?"

" _You_ know that you are the Key. And you are beginning to realise the shape of the Lock."

"And what lies behind the door to which our Dawn holds the key?" Mira asked, eyes narrowed. There was a hint of confusion in her tone, Dawn thought, but, well...that kind of made sense. She knew that Dawn _used to be_ the Key, from that first day when she got everyone to tell her all their weaknesses — Dawn didn't know who had told her, but _someone_ had mentioned she had only been human for two years — but there was no reason Bella or Anya would've told Mira about Dawn _still being_ the Key. Why would they have? Mira didn't care about 'magical theory' _at all_ , and it wasn't like it _mattered_ that Dawn was the Key. Not for their _current_ apocalypse, anyway.

"Death," the old woman said, simply, and so coldly Dawn felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Death," Mira repeated, sounding a hell of a lot less impressed.

"The death of this world, of _humanity_ , the dissolution of the chains which bind the Old Ones and the Greater Demons—" She cut herself off as Mira stepped forward and poked her in the shoulder. "What are you doing, girl?"

"Just checking." She shrugged. "Usually I can tell when Hot Shite's messing with my head, but just in case..."

The Wise One scoffed. "The ascendance of the consciousness which calls itself the First Evil, the fruition of its plotting and scheming— This is not the true threat, merely a symptom of the rising tide of the Dark, rallying against the efforts of humanity to contain it. It cannot be ignored, of course, the line must hold, but if you open the doorway, child," she said, her tone taking on a hint of urgency, "if you release the creatures held beyond the boundaries of this mortal plane, defeating the First Evil will mean nothing."

Oh. "I...wasn't planning on it?"

"You cannot restore the magic of this world, reawaken it from its slumber, without releasing those creatures, destroying all that we have worked for in the millennia since the first Slayer stepped into the Dark, and throwing this world, our home, into hell," the woman said softly, as though she knew that it hurt to hear, the reminder that the world had to– had to remain _broken_ , for humanity to thrive.

"I know. I _know_... It's just... It's _wrong_." Dawn couldn't really _explain_ how wrong it was, how wrong it _felt_ — "I know I can't– can't _fix it_ , that people would die, it's just..."

"How do you know?"

Dawn pulled herself together a little, hearing Mira's question, giving her something to focus on that wasn't just _the wrongness_. "I— Dreams?"

"Not _you_ , Dawn. Wise One, Grandmother— How do you _know_ that...restoring the magic would _destroy everything_?"

"We know because we were there, at the beginning," the woman said firmly, turning to Dawn, catching her gaze. Somehow, she couldn't look away.

"We?" she echoed.

"My sisters and I, our order. There were more of us, once." Right, so...probably not this actual old lady? Because that was like, ten _thousand_ years ago, according to Anya. "The men and their Slayer, they fought the Darkness directly, as men do, destroying its creatures as best they could. _We_ , women, fought by _creating_. By _growing_ , encouraging civilisation and _life_." Like Dawn had just encouraged the Potentials the other day, she realized. "And when the time came, we enacted the Powers' plan, sacrificing our magic to create a world for our children where humans need not fear the night and its creatures."

There were tears pricking at Dawn's eyes, and she couldn't even say _why_ , she—

"It wasn't _yours_ , though." Mira's cold amusement contrasted dramatically with the Wise One's earnestness. Both of them looked to the demon girl, the moment which had been stretching between them broken. "The magic of the world, the magic you _sacrificed_. It wasn't _yours alone_ , to do with as you pleased. You _stole_ it— Stole it from your children and the creatures of the night and the earth itself, as surely as the Dark steals hearts and lives and souls—"

"We made a choice," the old woman said coldly, almost defensively. "To ensure the survival of our people, and the safety of our children."

Mira smirked. "Oh, I'm not arguing that the ends don't justify the means, I'm sure you believe they do, and morality is always subjective. _Hypocrisy_ , on the other hand... Don't pretend you're better than we children of the Dark, Grandmother, when your world, your safety, your protection from the Dark, is founded on a trespass such as that. And don't pretend that your way is inherently better than that of those who fight and kill _as men do_ , simply because women also bring forth new life." Dawn...kind of felt like there was something there, that little emphasis on _as men do_. She just had no idea what, or why Mira was being so... "You had no _right_ , save that one _may_ do whatever others cannot _stop_ one from doing, and selfish concern for yourselves and those you held dear — the very same logic by which a man justifies doing violence to his enemies — by which kings subjugate their peoples and robber-barons rape the earth for profit — and every bit as destructive as taking up a sword.

"If Dawn chooses to unlock the door, to release both magic and demons, would it truly be a greater evil than bleeding this world dry to imprison the creatures you so abhor? Creatures who, as I understand, were here _long_ before humans."

" _Yes_ , arrogant child. You know not whereof you speak. This is _our world_ , ours and the Powers! The Old Ones and their demons are interlopers — not unlike yourself, in fact! They never belonged here! The Powers That Be cultivated life — _native_ life, humans — to fight them, to drive them back, which is what we have done and continue to do!"

The demon sneered at the old woman's fury. "Yes, you did, didn't you. Beginning at a time when humanity was in a far more precarious position in terms of survival, yes? Somehow, I suspect loosing the darkness which you so fear would not be nearly so fatal to humankind as a whole as you claim. When you feed a vampire, the evil in him becomes stronger, that's true. But so too does his strength to resist it, if he has the will. And humans do tend to be rather tenacious."

Mysterious Dream Lady raised an eyebrow at Mira as though that was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard anyone say. "So you would have the child unlock the door, loose the evil, and hope that humanity will simply fight it off, drive it back again? There would be a _war_ , little temptress. Even in the best case, people would die. And the best that could be accomplished would be to push the Dark back and bind it again, back to where we started, where we are _now_ , and for _what?_ To briefly bring magic back to a world which has learned to live, to _thrive_ without it? I might have expected such a suggestion from your companion, given as she is to chaos and destruction, but not _you_ , who always chooses to put sense before sensibility, and places her security above her own happiness — or that of anyone else."

"Oh, we've been spying, have we, Grandmother?" Mira asked, eyes narrowed in fury. "Magic is— it's _wonder_ and _joy_ , _hope_ and _miracles_!"

"Miracles? Wonder? Perhaps you are not so worldly as you like to pretend. _Grow up_ , girl!"

Mira scoffed. "So speaks the wisdom of the ages: abandon your childish appreciation of the world all around you, turn your mind to more important matters, and forget that there was ever a reason you found life worth living! Be afraid of conflict, for you might get hurt, you might _die_ , how _terrible_!" That was almost _painfully_ sarcastic. "Is it better to hide outside of time, alone for endless millennia, sitting and breathing and experiencing nothing but fear that there might one day be an end to your endless vigil, watching others live, while you merely survive? What the hell is the _point_?"

"The _point_ , selfish girl, is that others may live!"

"No, the _point_ is that life without magic is dull and sterile, washed-out and _mundane_. It's _boring_ , the natural processes of the world all neat and orderly and quantifiable and predictable — _knowable_. It's monotonous and _pointless_ — it _stagnates_ , each generation simply propagating the species, to what end? Mock me as a naïve child all you like, O Venerable Sage, but without magic, without wonder and miracles and beautiful, incomprehensible mysteries, why bother living?"

"Why bother indeed, if you are so cynical as that! There is still beauty in this world, in the human experience, mundane though it may be — feeling and expression, _art_ and _love_ — _connection_. And _knowable_ is not the same as _known_ — the complexities of the natural world are just as wondrous in their own way as the unpredictability of magic, and far less dangerous!"

Mira sniffed, clearly unimpressed with that argument. "You say you're guarding against the original sin, the curiosity of an innocent girl-child holding a key — don't eat of the fruit, don't open the box— Don't question your elders, just do as you're told; be a good little girl and resign yourself to holding what you have, keep the fire burning, but don't strive for _more_. But it might be argued that one cannot be truly good if one does not know of evil, or truly appreciate the joys of life without experiencing its sorrows."

The old woman sneered at her. "Wisdom is never found in sophistry, but only in experience — your pretty arguments and misleading truths serve only to deceive, O Temptress, and to what end?"

"To encourage a child to discover truth for herself, perhaps, rather than trusting blindly the words of others? Faith goes hand in hand with deception, Grandmother, and trust with ignorance. Neither can one gain the wisdom of experience hiding behind the safety of tradition and the familiarity of what one already knows, for fear of—"

"Mira!" Dawn interrupted. "That's enough! Just— _Stop_ it! This isn't about _truth_ or _wisdom_ in like, some hypothetical, here! It's about the actual future of my _actual world!_ I was never– never _planning_ on being the Key, opening the door, or whatever! There's plenty of good and evil and beauty and wonder in humanity without letting the Greater Demons back into our dimension, and _yes_ , it feels _wrong_ , all the magic tied up in keeping them out, but Mysterious Dream Lady is right— I don't want people to _die!_ I don't want to _start a war!_ " She knew even as she said it, though, that...she didn't really have a choice. The war, as she'd told the Potentials, started a _really_ long time ago — _none_ of them had a choice about that. "And even if I didn't care about that, if I was _fine_ with a war, or thought it was worth it, or whatever, I wasn't going to try to– to _fix the entire universe_ , or something! Maybe in _your_ world, that's a thing teenagers do, but not here! It wasn't just a bunch of cryptic elder types that put that spell in place, it was the _actual Powers That Be,_ and we have to assume _they_ knew what they were doing!"

Mira gave her a terribly pitying look which seemed to last an awfully long time, but there was no hint of sympathy (or any emotion at all) in her voice when she responded.

"It's the role of the Mother to protect her children, and the role of the Crone to guide her people, but it's the role of the Maiden to make a choice, to lose her innocence and perhaps, in time, gain the wisdom of experience." Her words were almost eerily calm and measured, and Dawn got the feeling she wasn't really talking to _her_. Sure enough, her eyes flicked back over to the silver-haired Dream Lady, just for a second. "Just a thought, Grandmother.

"Dawn, I'll wait for you outside."

And then she was gone, leaving Dawn alone with the old woman.

She half expected Mysterious Dream Lady to have something more to say, now that Mira wasn't right there arguing with her and being all...confrontational, but she just nodded, giving Dawn a...kind of self-satisfied smile. It was a little off-putting, honestly.

"If you truly believe the words you just spoke — and I could tell that you do — then I believe I have said all I needed to say. You know the consequences of releasing the Great Spell, and I trust you to remain mindful of the fact that they outweigh the benefits of freeing magic and demons alike. And that you will not allow the would-be Serpent to beguile you with talk of beautiful possibilities and mystery, wonder and miracles," she added slightly dismissively, nodding toward the stairs, after Mira.

"Um...no?" Dawn wasn't entirely sure she followed. She was Eve in this metaphor, right? What did that make Mysterious Dream Lady? _God?_ Whatever, she was pretty sure she wasn't in any danger of being _beguiled_.

Honestly, she wasn't really sure why she was here at all. She meant, obviously the Mysterious Dream Lady thought it was a good idea to warn her off doing the Key... _thing_ (however that even _worked_ ), remind her that the magic and the demons were kind of a package deal, but she _hadn't been planning_ on doing the thing she had no idea how to do anyway.

Clearly _no_ had been the right answer, because Mysterious Dream Lady's smile widened (again, kind of creepy, how pleased she was, especially since it wasn't like she'd convinced Dawn of anything she hadn't already known or been planning to do — not do, whatever).

"Very well. Then I believe the only thing left to say is...good luck."

She stepped forward to take Dawn's shoulders, pulling her closer and laying a soft, motherly sort of kiss on her forehead.

"Um...thanks?" she offered, edging away and trying not to seem too totally creeped, but seriously, that was super creepy, what the _hell?!_

When she followed Mira out into the bright morning sunlight, and turned around to look back, the pyramid was gone, which was just the icing on the cupcake of weirdness that was that entire conversation.

She managed to make it about half a block past the cemetery gates, trailing slightly behind Mira, who was clearly furious, even if Dawn didn't quite get _why_ , before she gave in to the urge to ask, "What the hell was _that_ about?"

Because she had _no idea_ what the point of that conversation was.

Mira slowed down to let her catch up, making a little exasperated huff. "I... I lost my objectivity. I apologise. It's just... Self-righteous, paternalistic old meddlers making decisions and then just _forcing_ them on their children really rubs me the wrong way. I'm not really a fan of sexism or hypocrisy in general, but it's the bloody _smugness_ that really gets me. Just— Where the _hell_ does she get off, you know? But I shouldn't have lost my temper and monopolised the conversation. I'm sorry."

"Er...I'm pretty sure she still said everything she wanted to say. She said she did, anyway, after you left. And yeah, I can see how it's kind of hypocritical and paternalistic acting all holier than thou about...stealing all the magic, I guess." She got why they'd done it, she did, really, but it still _felt_ wrong. "But sexist?"

" _Mmm_." Mira nodded. "Not so overtly as dear Caleb, of course, but that not-so-subtle attitude of superiority — the men and their Slayer fought directly, as _men_ do; _we, women_ , fought back by _creating_ — as though there's something less _worthy_ about fighting one's enemies directly and physically, like a _man_ , rather than _covertly_ , that's what she really meant — manipulating circumstances to support one's own side, rather than getting one's hands dirty, and making ruthless sacrifices to secure one's goal. Which, I can hardly judge their strategy, but that snide implication that covert warfare is somehow _better_ or that it's less destructive to simply marginalise one's enemies out of existence, _that_ annoys me.

"Which, yes, I know, it's ridiculous, I shouldn't care — Bella certainly doesn't, and Buffy obviously didn't _choose_ the path she walks, but—"

"You've lost me," Dawn interrupted. "What do Buffy and Bella have to do with this?"

Mira paused for a long moment, apparently gathering her thoughts before making another attempt to explain. They passed three houses before she spoke again. "It's...about what femininity means, I suppose. And having internalised certain values and associations which predispose one to consider certain tactics more masculine or more feminine, and how different strategies are viewed by different segments of society. The implication which so annoyed me was that women who excel in so-called masculine arenas, such as fighting and destruction, like Bella — and Buffy, though she obviously makes more of an effort to meet feminine expectations outside of exercising power as the Slayer — are less feminine than women who excel in so-called feminine arenas, such as domesticating the world, or laying clever traps to seal your enemies away, or manipulating the contest to win without ever overtly opposing the enemy, like me, and thus inferior, because they fail to live up to gender expectations.

"Generally speaking, patriarchal societies such as ours value masculine excellence more than feminine — we would consider it more honourable, for example, to fight our enemies in the open than to lie and manipulate and seduce them and stab them in the back. More _admirable_. Bella — and Buffy — in many ways, could be considered a male power ideal — tiny and delicate and feminine in appearance, yes, but strong in a way _men_ — and our society as a whole — recognise and approve of, physically able to keep up with the boys, even kick their arses in a straight fight. Stoic, especially in Bella's case, and uncompromising. Mysterious Dream Lady, as you were calling her, like myself, represents a more feminine way of exercising power, incidentally more threatening to the patriarchal status quo — changing the very nature of the conflict through cleverness and trickery, playing a long game and doing so absolutely ruthlessly, sacrificing whatever is necessary to accomplish our respective goals, the end _far_ more important than the means."

Dawn shivered, recalling the Predator recognizing that in the First Slayer, her need to _see it through, to_ kill them all, _regardless of the price to herself,_ recalling the girl's fury and determination to seize the demon's strength, her willingness to become something _other_ , to _die a monster_ to tip the scales, avenge her people... (Mira didn't seem to notice.)

"And it annoys me that she refused to _own_ that, presuming to put her more 'feminine' approach to the problem of how to deal with the demonic threat on a moral pedestal, framing it as _creating_ , rather than destroying, when it's still destruction, just a more _covert_ sort of destruction. I find attempts to elevate femininity to a position of moral superiority to be every bit as much an insult to feminism as the pervasive over-valuation of masculinity in our society at large, especially when such efforts to subvert the patriarchal norm continue to play into established gender expectations."

"Er...don't take this the wrong way, or anything, but I'm kinda having trouble picturing you as like, the feminist, down with the patriarchy _type_. Gender Studies major ranting aside."

Mira let out a startled little snort of laughter. "I'm not, really. It's easier to take advantage of people who underestimate you, and easier to exploit the system if you understand it, and how you're perceived within it. _Tom_ is more of a feminist than I am. He rather despises the idea of a strong gender dichotomy, largely because witchcraft, including all the areas of magic in which he especially excels, is perceived and devalued as women's magic. I, on the other hand, have the luxury of meeting the expectations society holds for me without making any real effort to conform.

"I'm _mostly_ offended on Bella's behalf for the implication that _her_ methods of problem-solving, and by extension her character, were implied to be inferior. Bella, of course, would neither notice nor care about said implication. She would almost certainly actually agree that she's not particularly feminine and find the idea of attaching a value judgment to that statement to be completely baffling. Honestly, I'm not entirely certain she understands the concept of gender. Obviously she knows it _exists_ , but I suspect she thinks it doesn't apply to her."

An amused smirk twitched at Dawn's lips. "Does it? I mean, I can't really see anyone _making_ her conform to their expectations, so..."

Mira rolled her eyes. "They can't _make her_ , no, but...Bella really _hates_ being wrong. Or, well, she hates being _unable_ to do things to the standards others expect. She might _choose_ not to do the expected thing — running off to bloody _Hell_ rather than allowing herself to be betrothed comes to mind — but she likes to be able to, if she wants to. And she's _really_ not capable of acting properly human on a regular basis, let alone like a proper Society Lady. You have _no_ idea how pleased she is that Lily thinks she's actually fae. She finds the idea of not being held to human standards and expectations in general _incredibly_ appealing."

"Well, can you blame me?" the girl in question asked, stepping out of Mira's shadow and joining in the conversation like she'd been there all along. Dawn jumped — she still wasn't used to that. "I'd make a much better fae than I do a human. Spike said you went for a walk," she added, presumably in response to the _why are you here_ expression on Mira's face. "I thought I'd check and make sure you hadn't been dragged off to Valhalla again."

"I hate you, Bella."

Bella giggled.

"No," Dawn informed her. "I had a dream about this weird old lady wanting to talk to me at the cemetery, in a pyramid that totally vanished afterward — it was super freaky, but not like, _dangerous_ , I don't think. Don't tell Buffy, anyway. She doesn't need to worry about it right now." _Or ever..._

The little shadow-demon shrugged. "'Kay. So what did the weird old lady want to talk to you _about_?"

"Ah...you know how I might kind of sort of still be the Key?" Bella nodded. "She wanted to warn me not to unlock anything."

"Were you actually _planning_ on unlocking anything?"

"No, that's part of what makes the whole thing super weird. Which was actually what I meant when I asked what the hell _that_ was about," she informed Mira.

"Oh," the demon said, sounding rather embarrassed, probably because she'd gone off talking about herself and feminism and how protective she could be of Bella when she really didn't have to. Not that it wasn't kind of reassuring knowing that Mira had issues the same as the rest of them (and Mira getting offended on her girlfriend's behalf was a little adorable), but that...wasn't really what Dawn was concerned about. "I rather think she was exactly what she appeared to be: a self-righteous, paternalistic old crone attempting to play puppetmaster, spying on us and pretending it's not a crime against nature to twist the universe all out of shape and starve this world of magic because _what about the children?!_ never mind whether the children have their own opinions on the matter, must keep them wrapped up in cotton wool and packed away safe, for their own good — not that it does anyone any good being kept from truly experiencing and appreciating life, and telling curious maidens 'don't touch' _always_ works _so_ well in those tales of original sin, honestly!"

Bella grinned at her girlfriend's ranting before turning back to Dawn. "So, does that make you Pandora, then?"

"I think I might be Eve? She definitely warned me against being _beguiled by the would-be Serpent_ , so."

Mira scowled, clicking her tongue impatiently. "Just ignore her, Dawn, the entire discussion was completely pointless."

Her girlfriend giggled. "I don't know, Dawnie, I think that sounds like exactly the sort of thing a would-be Serpent would say, don't you?"

"Oh, shut up, Bella. No one asked _you_."

"No one _ever_ asks me, which is weird, because I give _great_ advice."

"No, you don't. Your advice always comes down to, _if you want to do the thing, do the thing, so what if there are unexpected consequences, that's what makes life fun._ "

"Yeah, like I said, _great_ advice."

Dawn smiled to herself, wandering back toward the demons' house, listening to them bicker.

She wasn't going to worry about it, she decided. She'd never been _planning_ on unlocking the whatever, so Mira was right, the whole weird conversation had been pointless. If anything, it had just made Dawn wonder whether maybe there was some other way to do it, keep the Old Ones and the Greater Demons out of this dimension, and she was pretty sure that was the opposite of what Mysterious Dream Lady had wanted. She still wasn't going to fool around with something _actual gods_ had arranged to put in place, though. That seemed like the _definition_ of a _bad idea_.

So, yeah, just...ignore it. Pretend everything's fine, there's not something fundamentally _wrong_ with the entire freaking world...

Think about breakfast, or taking a nap, or working on that translation, or _literally anything else_ , it'll be _fine_...

(Ignoring the whole mess was a lot easier said than done.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's the last chapter I've got written so far. It will probably be a while before I start posting again, since I'm still working on the Plan and New Avalon, too. But I think we can see the direction the story's shaping up in, so at least it's not cutting off *right* in the middle of an arc. That's *something*, right?
> 
> Re: Mira's Gender Studies Major Rant, no that's not an author-avatar opinion on BtVS in general and Season Seven in particular what are you talking about? (Sorry, not sorry.)


End file.
